This  is  an  authorized  facsimile  of  the  original  book,  and 
was  produced  in  1972  by  microfilm-xerography  by  University 
Microfilms,  A  Xerox  Company,  Ann  Arbor,  Michigan,  U.S.A. 


Sappho. 


9  QTragrtg  in  jFtbe  Sets. 


BY 


FRANZ    GRILLPARZER. 


TRANSLATED  BY  ELLEN  FROTHINGHAM. 


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BOSTON: 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS. 

1876. 


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Copyright,  1876, 
By  Roberts  Brothers. 


Cambridge 
Proa  of  John  Wilson  6*  Son. 

12235 


MEMOIR. 


Franz  Grillparzer  was  born  in  Vienna,  January  15, 
1 79 1.  His  father  was  a  lawyer,  and  in  comfortable 
circumstances  until  the  disasters  attendant  on  the  in- 
vasion of  Austria  by  Napoleon  destroyed  his  property. 
At  his  death,  in  1809,  Franz  found  himself  at  the  age  of 
eighteen  obliged  not  only  to  provide  for  his  own  support, 
but  to  contribute  something  towards  the  maintenance  of 
his  mother  and  three  younger  brothers.  He  obtained, 
first,  a  position  as  tutor  in  a  nobleman's  family,  and,  in 
18 13,  a  small  post  under  government.  For  this  the 
legal  studies  which  he  had  pursued  with  zeal  after 
the  death  of  his  father  abundantly  qualified  him.  His 
promotion  was  exceedingly  slow  and  rather  hindered 
than  furthered  by  his  literary  works,  notwithstanding  the 
ardent  patriotism  and  the  loyalty  to  the  House  of  Haps- 
burg  which  many  of  his  dramas  express. 

The  censorship  was  very  severe  in  Austria  at  that 
time,  and  Grillparzer  was  condemned  to  feel  the  full 
rigor  of  it.  Obstacles  were  put  in  the  way  not  only  of 
the  success,  but  of  the  presentation,  of  his  plays.  Not 
until  he  had  grown  an  old  man,  were  party  prejudices 
so  allayed  that  his  countrymen  could  do  justice  either 


S7i 

4  MEMOIR. 

to  his  integrity  as  a  citizen,  or  his  worth  as  a  dramatic 
poet  The  first  public  expression  of  love  and  respect  to 
him  was  on  the  occasion  of  his  attaining  his  eightieth 
birthday,  in  187 1,  Then  the  largest  hall  in  the  city  was 
filled  with  deputations,  bringing  laurel  crowns  and  cost- 
lier presents,  and  there  speeches  were  made  and  verses 
read  in  honor  of  the  venerable  poet  and  patriot.  A 
year  later,  the  capital  celebrated  his  funeral  as  if  he 
had  been  a  ruler  in  the  land.  He  died,  January  21, 
1872,  at  the  age  of  eighty-one. 

His  long  life  was  that  of  a  solitary  student.  He 
labored  faithfully  and  successfully  to  make  up  for  the 
defects  of  his  early  education,  which  had  been  in- 
trusted to  incompetent  tutors  over  whom  his  father 
exercised  no  supervision,  though  living  under  his  own 
roof.  In  his  years  of  lonely  reading,  he  not  only  made 
himself  familiar  with  the  modern  European  languages, 
but  became  so  conversant  with  Greek  and  Latin  that 
the  classic  authors  were  among  the  favorite  companions 
of  his  old  age.  His  one  recreation  was  travelling.  He 
visited  Greece  and  Italy,  stayed  long  in  London  and 
Paris,  and  acquainted  himself  with  the  chief  cities  and 
famous  men  of  Germany. 

Grillparzer  cherished  a  life-long  attachment  to  Kath- 
arina  Frohlich ;  but  want  of  means,  and  perhaps  peculi- 
arities  of  disposition   on   both   sides,  prevented  their 


MEMOIR.  5 

marrying.  The  last  few  years  of  his  life,  he  lived  near 
her  in  modest  rooms,  which  the  three  sisters  Frohlich 
fitted  up  for  him,  adjoining  their  own,  in  the  fourth  story 
of  a  house  in  the  Spiegelgasse.  Here  he  enjoyed,  for 
the  first  time,  something  like  the  companionship  of 
home.  The  sisters  cared  for  him  when  the  infirmities 
of  age  came  on,  and  Katharina  was  with  him  at  his 
death. 

The  first  of  Grillparzer's  dramas  that  appeared  upon 
the  stage  was  "Die  Ahnfrau,"  produced  in  1817. 

"Sappho"  was  first  acted  in  18 18,  and  was  followed 
at  intervals  of  three  years  by  six  other  plays,  the  last  of 
which  was  given  in  1838.  After  that  time,  Grillparzer 
allowed  no  drama  to  be  offered  for  representation, 
although  he  left  three  completed  in  manuscript.  He 
was  reserved  and  sensitive,  and  shrank  ever  more  and 
more  from  all  contact  with  the  public.  The  success  of 
a  piece,  he  said,  could  no  longer  give  him  pleasure, 
while  its  failure  might  still  cause  him  pain.  Several  of 
the  dramas,  including  the  "  Sappho,"  continue  to  form 
part  of  the  repertory  of  the  principal  German  theatres. 

The  complete  edition  of  Grillparzer's  works,  published 
in  1872,  comprises  —  beside  the  dramas  —  poems,  tales, 
aphorisms,  an  account  of  the  Spanish  theatre,  and  the 
fragment  of  an  autobiography. 

ELLEN   FROTHINGHAM. 
Boston,  October,  1876. 


PREFACE. 


Grillparzer  tells  us  that,  as  he  was  walking  one 
afternoon  of  early  autumn  along  the  Danube  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  Prater,  he  met  an  acquaintance  who 
suggested  Sappho  to  him  as  the  subject  of  an  opera 
libretto.  The  name  struck  him  as  furnishing  the  simple 
material  for  a  tragedy  which  he  had  long  been  seeking. 
He  continued  his  walk,  and  by  the  time  he  returned  home 
in  the  evening  the  outline  of  the  piece  was  finished.  The 
next  day  he  looked  over  the  fragments  of  Sappho's 
poems  that  still  remain  to  us,  and,  finding  that  one  of 
the  two  addressed  to  the  goddess  of  love  exactly  buited 
his  purpose,  he  translated  it  upon  the  spot,  and  the 
next  morning  began  the  work  of  composing.  In  fact, 
the  prayer  at  the  end  of  the  first  act,  beginning,  "  Gold- 
enthroned  Aphrodite,"  is  an  almost  literal  translation 
of  Sappho's  own  lines. 

One  critic,  Grillparzer  tells  us,  took  great  exception  to 
the  first  act,  and  advocated  its  being  omitted  altogether. 
Readers  of  to-day  will  be  more  likely  to  find  fault  with 
the  last  page  of  the  final  act,  and  to  think  that  the  play 


8  PREFACE. 

should  have  ended  with  Sappho's  throwing  herself  into 
the  sea.  Our  author,  however,  thoroughly  understood 
stage  effects,  and  the  very  natural  action  on  the  part 
of  the  lookers-on  of  sending  out  boats  for  her  rescue 
makes  no  doubt  a  suitable  finish  to  the  tragedy  when 
acted. 

Grillparzer  has  allowed  himself  greater  freedom  in 
regard  to  the  number  of  syllables  in  a  line  than  is  pleas- 
ing to  an  English  ear.  The  rule  of  ten  syllables  has 
been  adhered  to  throughout  in  the  translation,  with  the 
exception  of  the  first  line  of  Sappho's  greeting  to  her 
fellow-citizens,  where  the  eight  syllables  of  the  German 
have  been  retained. 

E.  F. 


SAPPHO. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


Sappho. 
Phaon. 

Eucharis,  \female  attendants  of  Sappho. 

Melitta,  ) 

Rhamnes,  a  slave. 

A  countryman. 

Female  attendants,  slaves,  and  country  people. 


SAPPHO. 


ACT     FIRST, 

SCENE  FIRST. 

The  stage  represents  an  open  country,  with  the  sea  in  the  back* 
ground.  The  coast  is  flat,  except  for  a  rocky  promontory  which 
rises  on  the  left.  Near  the  shore  is  an  altar  to  Aphrodite.  In 
the  foreground,  to  the  right,  partly  concealed  by  shrubs  and  vines, 
is  the  entrance  to  a  grotto ;  farther  back,  the  opening  of  a  colon* 
nade,  within  which  steps  lead  up  to  Sappho's  dwelling.  In  the 
foreground,  to  the  left,  stands  a  tall  rose-bush  with  a  grassy  seat 
beneath  it. 

Cymbals  and  flutes  and  the  shouting  of  voices  are  heard  in  the 
distance. 

rhamnes  {entering  hurriedly). 

Up  from  your  slumber,  she  is  coming ; — up  ! 
Oh  why  are  wings  lent  only  to  our  wishes, 
And  feet  left  sluggish  while  the  heart  is  eager? 
Forth,  lazy  maidens !  wherefore  do  ye  tarry  ? 
Ye  give  the  lie  to  him  who  calls  youth  hasty. 

eucharis,  melitta,  and  maidens  from  the  colonnade. 


12  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

MELITTA. 

Why  art  thou  angry  ?    Here  we  are. 


She  comes. 


Who  comes  ? 


RHAMNES. 
MELITTA. 
RHAMNES. 

She  —  Sappho  comes. 


VOICES   WITHOUT. 

Hail,  Sappho,  hail  1 

RHAMNES, 

Hail,  Sappho,  hail,  indeed !    Well  cried,  good  people  I 

MELITTA. 

What  means  — 

RHAMNES. 

Now,  by  the  gods,  the  girl  asks  strangely. 
She  is  returning  from  Olympia  crowned, 
For  she  has  won  the  wreath  of  victory. 
To  her,  in  presence  of  assembled  Greece, 
Gathered  in  witness  of  the  noble  strife, 
Was  given  the  prize  of  poesy  and  song. 
Therefore  the  people  haste  with  shouts  to  greet  her, 
And  on  the  broad  wings  of  their  exultation 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  13 

Bear  upward  to  the  stars  the  favored  name. 
This  hand  of  mine  it  was,  ay,  and  this  mouth, 
First  taught  her  to  draw  language  from  the  lyre, 
And  to  confine  the  lawlessness  of  song 
Within  the  sweet  restraints  of  harmony. 

people  (without). 
Hail,  Sappho !  Sappho,  hail ! 

rhamnes  (to  the  maidens). 

Rejoice !  rejoice  I 
Do  ye  not  see  her  crown  ? 

MELITTA. 

I  see  but  Sappho. 
Let  us  go  forth  to  meet  her. 

RHAMNES. 

Stay,  girl,  stay  I 
What  cares  she  for  the  tribute  of  your  joy  ? 
She  is  grown  wonted  now  to  other  praise. 
Rather  make  ready  all  within  the  house, 
For  servants  please  their  master  best  by  serving. 

MELITTA. 

But  seest  thou  at  her  side  — 

RHAMNES, 

What? 


14  SAPPHO:    A  TRAGEDY. 

MELITTA. 

*  Seest  thou  not 

Another  radiant  shape  that  towers  beside  her  ? 
In  such  a  form  we  picture  to  ourselves 
The  god  of  lyre  and  bow. 

RHAMNES. 

I  see  ;  but  haste  I 

MELITTA. 

And  but  just  now  thou  call'dst  us. 

RHAMNES. 

True ;  I  called  you 
That  ye  should  know  your  mistress  was  approaching. 
And  know  it  was  your  duty  to  be  glad ; 
But  ye  should  keep  your  gladness  for  the  house* 
A  man  may  give  loud  welcome  to  his  love : 
Intent  on  serving,  woman  loves  in  silence. 


But  let  us  only  ■ 


MELITTA. 


RHAMNES. 


No,  away,  away ! 
(He  hurries  the  maidens  away*) 
Now  she  may  come,  nor  with  its  forwardness 
Will  folly  now  disturb  her  festive  welcome. 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  1 5 


SCENE  SECOND. 

Sappho  appears  upon  a  car  drawn  by  white  horses;  she  Is 
richly  dressed,  and  wears  a  crown  of  laurel ;  a  golden  lyre  is  in 
her  hand.  By  her  side  stands  Phaon  simply  attired.  The  people 
surround  them  shouting. 

PEOPLE. 
Hail,  Sappho,  hail ! 

rhamnes  {mingling  with  the  crowd). 

Hail,  Sappho,  most  dear  lady  1 

SAPPHO. 

Thanks,  friends ;  thanks,  fellow  countrymen  I 
Glad  am  I  for  your  sake  to  wear  this  crown : 
The  citizen  it  decks,  the  poet  burdens. 
Here  among  you  I  first  can  call  it  mine, 
Here  where  the  aspirations  of  my  childhood, 
The  uncertain  stammering  of  youthful  effort, 
The  hot  delirious  rapture  of  achievement, 
Crowd  all  at  once  on  my  entranced  soul  j 
Here  where  the  cypresses  waft  over  to  me 
Low  spirit-greetings  from  my  parents'  grave; 
Here  where  repose  the  many  early  lost, 
Who  in  my  strivings,  my  success  rejoiced ; 
Here  among  you,  surrounded  by  my  dear  ones, 
Here  only  does  this  crown  appear  no  crime, 
The  guilty  bauble  grow  a  fair  adornment. 


16  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

ONE  OF  THE   PEOPLE. 

Happy  for  us  that  we  may  call  thee  ours  ! 
Have  ye  not  heard  how  modest  are  her  words  ? 
More  than  the  gifts  of  Greece  her  speech  adorns  her. 

rhamnes  {pressing  up  to  her). 
I  bid  thee  welcome,  welcome,  glorious  lady  1 

sappho  (descending  from  the  car,  and  bestowing  kindly 
greetings  on  those  about  her). 

Welcome,  my  faithful  Rhamnes !  and  Artander, 

Thou  here  despite  the  weakness  of  thine  age  ? 

Kallisto — Rhodopfe — ye  weep,  beloved? 

The  eye  repays  as  strictly  as  the  heart 

Tears  for  your  tears  —  behold !  —  I  pray  you  spare  me. 

ONE   OF   THE   PEOPLE. 

Welcome  to  the  familiar  soil  of  home, , 
Welcome  to  the  glad  circle  of  thy  people  ! 

SAPPHO. 

Not  unrequited  shall  your  welcome  be, 
For  see,  your  daughter  brings  you  back  a  son, 
Brings  Phaon ;  from  the  best  he  is  descended, 
And  with  the  best  may  boldly  mate  himself. 
Although  his  years  declare  him  still  a  youth, 
His  words  and  deeds  have  proven  him  a  man. 
Whenever  ye  shall  need  the  warrior's  sword, 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  I? 

The  lips  of  orator,  the  poet's  mouth, 

A  friend's  advice  or  a  deliverer's  arm, 

Then  call  on  Phaon :  ye  need  seek  no  further. 

PHAON. 

Thou  mockest,  Sappho,  me  a  stranger  youth ; 
In  what  have  I  deserved  such  lavish  praise  ? 
Who  would  believe  so  much  of  one  untried  t 

SAPPHO. 

Whoever  sees  thee  blush  at  thine  own  praise. 

PHAON. 

Ashamed,  I  can  but  wonder  and  be  dumb. 

SAPPHO. 

Thou  givest  proof  of  what  thou  wouldst  deny, 
For  silence  and  desert  are  near  of  kin. 
Yes,  friends,  I  here  acknowledge  to  you  frankly, 
I  love  him,  upon  him  my  choice  has  fallen. 
He  in  the  fulness  of  his  gifts  was  fated 
To  draw  me  with  a  soft  constraining  power 
Down  from  the  cloud-tipped  heights  of  poesy 
Into  the  cheerful,  flowery  vales  of  life, 
Among  you  at  his  side  henceforth  to  lead 
A  simple,  quiet,  pastoral  life  ;  the  laurel 
Exchanging  gladly  for  the  myrtle  wreath. 
Only  to  sing  the  tranquil  joys  of  home 


18  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

Shall  I  awake  the  music  of  my  lyre. 

What  ye  have  prized  and  reverenced  until  now 

Ye  yet  shall  learn  to  love,  to  love,  dear  friends. 

PEOPLE. 

Hail  to  thee,  glorious  one !  hail,  Sappho,  hail ! 

SAPPHO. 

Enough,  enough  ;  I  thank  you  all  good  friends. 
Follow  ye  now  my  servant,  who  shall  lead 
Where  ye  with  food  and  wine  and  merry  dance 
May  end  the  festival  of  my  return, 
A  sister's  glad  return  unto  her  home. 

(To  the  country  people,  who  salute  her.) 
Farewell ;  thou  too  —  and  thou  —  all,  all  farewell. 
(rhamnes  goes  out  with  the  country  people). 


SCENE  THIRD. 

SAPPHO.   PHAON. 
SAPPHO. 


Thou  seest,  dear  friend,  such  is  thy  Sappho's  life : 
For  favors,  thanks ;  for  her  love,  friendliness ; 
Thus  have  I  fared  in  all  life's  intercourse.. 
I  was  content  and  shall  be  richly  blessed 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  19 

If  thou  wilt  give  but  half  thou  dost  receive, 
Nor  deem  thine  even  so  the  poorer  share.  — 
I  have  grown  used  to  loss  and  disappointment; 
My  parents  sank  into  an  early  grave  ; 
Brothers  and  sisters,  after  many  a  wound 
Inflicted  on  a  sister's  faithful  heart, 
Partly  their  guilt  and  partly  fate's  caprice, 
Banished  to  Acheron  before  their  time. 
I  know  the  smart  of  thanklessness,  the  sting 
Of  falsity  ;  this  heart  of  mine  has  proved 
The  treachery  of  friendship  and  of  love ; 
I  am  well  used  to  loss  and  disappointment. 
But  there  is  that  I  could  not  bear  to  lose : 
^Thee,  Phaon,  thee  ;  thy  friendship  and  thy  love. 
Therefore  try  well  thy  heart,  O  my  beloved ! 
Thou  hast  not  sounded  yet  the  immensity 
That  surges  up  and  down  within  this  breast. 

0  Phaon,  never  let  there  come  a  day 
When,  leaning  this  full  bosom  upon  thine, 

1  find  it  empty. 

PHAON. 

Honored  lady ! 

SAPPHO. 

Nay, 
Does  not  thy  heart  suggest  a  sweeter  name  ? 

PHAON. 

I  scarce  know  what  I  say  or  what  I  do. 
Drawn  from  my  former  still  obscurity, 


20  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

And  to  this  sudden  blaze  of  light  exposed, 
Transplanted  to  a  breezy  height,  the  aim 
Of  fruitless  wishes  to  our  best  and  greatest, 
I  sink  beneath  the  unexpected  bliss, 
And  am  bewildered  by  my  happiness. 
I  see  the  woods  and  banks  go  flitting  by, 
The  purple  heights  and  lowly  dwellings  vanish, 
And  scarcely  can  persuade  myself  that  all 
Is  standing  firm,  and  that  'tis  I  who  dizzy 
Am  swept  along  on  fortune's  swelling  billows. 

SAPPHO. 

Sweet  flattery,  but  only  flattery,  love. 

PHAON. 

Art  thou  in  very  truth  that  lady  high, 

Whose  name  from  farthest  shore  of  Pelops*  isle 

To  where  the  mountain  heights  of  rugged  Thrace 

Are  blended  with  the  happy  land  of  Hellas, 

On  every  spot  remote  from  men  and  land 

By  Chronos*  hand  hurled  to  the  Grecian  sea, 

And  upon  Asia's  fertile,  sunny  coasts, 

And  everywhere  that  but  one  Grecian  mouth 

Utters  in  song  the  language  of  the  gods, 

Is  borne  with  acclamation  to  the  stars  ? 

And  if  thou  art  indeed  that  lady  high, 

Why  was  thine  eye  attracted  to  a  youth    . 

Obscure,  without  all  name  or  reputation, 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  21 

Who  boasts  of  nothing  greater  than  this  lyre, 
Which  is  of  value  but  as  thou  hast  touched  it? 

SAPPHO. 

Fie  on  the  lyre  that  is  so  ill  attuned 

It  can  sing  nothing  but  its  mistress9  praise ! 

PHAON. 

Since  e'er  I  learned  to  think,  since  my  weak  hand 

With  touch  uncertain  sought  to  wake  the  lyre, 

Has  Sappho's  godlike  form  before  me  stood* 

When  in  the  joyous  circle  of  my  home 

I  sat  beside  my  parents'  lowly  hearth 

And  from  the  blackened  shelf  our  loved  Theano 

Fetched  down  the  roll,  a  song  of  thine,  of  Sappho's, 

To  sing  to  us,  still  grew  the  noisy  youths, 

While  all  the  maidens  close  together  drew, 

That  not  a  golden  kernel  might  be  lost. 

When  she  began  to  sing  of  the  fair  boy, 

The  burning  love-song  of  the  queen  of  love, 

The  wail  of  solitary  nights  of  watching, 

The  pastimes  of  Andromeda  and  Attis, 

How  listened  every  one,  his  very  breath, 

That  swelled  his  bosom  higher  with  delight^ 

Blaming  at  heart  for  being  over  loud ! 

And  then  Theano  would  lay  back  her  head, 

And  gaze  into  the  darkness  of  the  room, 

And  say,  How  fancy  ye  great  Sappho  looks  ? 


22  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

Methinks  I  see  her  now  1     By  all  the  gods, 

Among  a  thousand  I  should  recognize  her. 

And  then  the  tongues  of  all  were  quick  unloosed, 

And  every  one  would  spur  his  fancy  on 

To  deck  thy  picture  with  some  added  charm. 

One  gave  thee  Pallas'  eyes,  the  arm  of  Here, 

Another  Aphrodite's  magic  girdle. 

But  I  rose  silently  and  wandered  forth 

Into  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  night, 

And  'mid  the  pulses  there  of  slumbering  nature. 

Within  the  circle  of  her  magic  power, 

I  would  stretch  forth  my  longing  arms  to  thee ; 

And  when  the  snowy  flakelets  of  the  clouds, 

The  zephyrs'  balmy  breath,  the  mountain  perfumes, 

And  the  wan  radiance  of  the  silvery  moon, 

Melting  together,  wafted  o'er  my  brow, 

Then  thou  wast  mine,  I  felt  thy  presence  near, 

Thine  image  floated  in  the  illumined  clouds. 

SAPPHO. 

With  thine  own  riches  thou  hast  decked  me  out : 
Alas  for  me  shouldst  thou  take  back  thy  gifts  I 

PHAON. 

And  when  my  father  sent  me  to  Olympia, 
Where  in  the  chariot  race  I  should  contend, 
And  all  along  the  way  rang  in  my  ears, 
That  in  this  strife  the  crown  of  poesy 


SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY.  .       Z% 

Was  to  be  sought  and  won  by  Sappho's  lyre, 

My  heart  swelled  in  me  with  resistless  longing. 

Upon  the  road  my  coursers  both  fell  dead 

Before  I  had  descried  Olympia's  towers. 

I  reached  the  city,  but  the  flying  chariots, 

The  wrestler's  skill,  the  merry  discus  throwing, 

My  boding  senses  passed  unheeded  by. 

I  asked  not  who  had  carried  off  the  prize ; 

Myself  had  won  the  fairest  and  the  best, 

For  her  I  was  to  see  —  the  crown  of  women. 

Then  came  the  contest  for  the  prize  of  song : 

Alcpeus  sang,  Anacreon,  —  in  vain  ; 

They  could  not  loose  the  bond  that  held  my  senses. 

But  hark,  there  was  a  murmur  through  the  crowd, 

A  parting  of  the  people,  and  —  'twas  done ! 

For,  bearing  in  her  hand  a  golden  lyre, 

A  woman  passed  through  the  astonished  throng ; 

Her  dress  of  the  white  hue  of  innocence 

Came  rippling  downward  to  the  hidden  ankles, 

A  rivulet  that  flows  o'er  flowery  meads. 

Its  hem  made  of  green  laurel  boughs  and  palm, 

Symbolical  of  fame  and  of  repose, 

Expressed  the  poet's  need  and  his  reward. 

As  rosy  clouds  of  morning  round  the  sun, 

A  crimson  mantle  floated  round  about  her, 

And  through  the  darkness  of  her  raven  hair 

Shone  crescent-like  the  radiant  diadem, 

Flashing  abroad  the  sign  of  sovereignty. 


24       •  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

My  spirit  cried,  Tis  Sappho  I  and  'twas  thou, 

I  had  not  spoken  my  surmise  aloud 

Before  the  multitude  with  thousand  voices 

Proclaimed  my  sweet  foreboding  to  be  true. 

How  thou  didst  sing,  how  conquer  ;  ho\v  adorned  * 

With  the  proud  symbol  of  achieved  success 

In  the  first  ecstasy  of  triumph  the  lyre 

Slipped  from  thy  hand  ;  how  through  the  crowd  I  rushed, 

And  smitten  by  thy  look  before  thee  stood, 

A  bashful  boy,  o'ercome  with  sudden  shame,  — 

That  know'st  thou,  lady,  better  than  myself, 

For,  still  but  half-awake,  I  pondering  question 

How  much  was  real  and  how  much  but  a  dream. 

SAPPHO. 

I  see  thee  as  thou  stood'st  there  timid,  speechless, 

With  all  of  life  compressed  into  thine  eyes, 

Which,  scarcely  lifted  up  from  off  the  ground, 

Plainly  betrayed  their  unextinguished  fire, 

I  bade  thee  follow,  and  thou  didst  obey, 

Lost  in  uncertainty  and  wonderment  - 

PHAON. 

Who  could  have  thought  that  Hellas'  greatest  daughter 
Would  cast  a  glance  on  Hellas'  meanest  son  ? 

SAPPHO. 

Unjust  unto  thyself  and  to  the  gods, 

To  scorn  the  golden  gifts  which  at  the  birth 


SAPPHO  i    A   TRAGEDY.  2$ 

Of  him  they  destine  to  the  sweets  of  life 

They  pour  o'er  cheek  and  brow,  through  heart  and  soul. 

Such  gifts  are  sure  supports  to  which  existence 

May  knit  anew  its  lightly  sundered  threads. 

Beauty  is  a  possession  to  be  prized,  % 

Joy  in  existence  a  fair  heritage ; 

Courage  and  strength  that  may  command  the  world! 

Firmness  of  purpose,  joy  in  that  which  is, 

And  fancy  in  her  place  as  gentle  handmaid,  — 

These  beautify  the  thorny  path  of  life ; 

And  how  to  live  is  surely  life's  best  aim. 

Not  without  meaning  is  the  Muses'  choice 

To  deck  themselves  with  the  unfruitful  laurel ; 

Scentless  and  cold  it  weighs  upon  the  brow 

It  promised  to  console  for  many  losses. 

'Tis  hard  to  stand  upon  the  dizzy  heights : 

Poor  art  is  forced  to  be  a  constant  beggar 

(  With  arms  outstretched  towards  Phaon.) 
Upon  the  glad  exuberance  of  life. 

PHAON. 

What  would  one  not  believe,  gracious  enchantress, 
That  thou  couldst  say,  evon  because  thou  sa/st  it? 

SAPPHO. 

Let  it  be  our  endeavor,  then,  dear  friend, 
To  twine  a  double  crown  about  our  brows ; 
Let  us  quaff  life  out  of  art's  magic  cup, 


26  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

And  from  the  hand  of  life  partake  of  art. 
Behold  this  landscape ;  —  in  its  simple  charm 
Half  to  the  earth  it  seemeth  to  belong, 
And  half  unto  the  fields  that  Lethe  kisses. 
Among  these  bowers  of  roses,  in  these  grottoes, 
Within  the  still  enclosure  of  these  columns, 
Here  let  us,  like  unto  the  immortal  gods, 
Who  know  nor  hunger  nor  satiety, 
Only  enjoyment  changing  not  nor  palling, 
Rejoice  together  in  a  glad  existence. 
All  that  is  mine  is  thine :  whate'er  I  have 
Is  precious  to  me  but  as  thou  shalt  use  it. 
Look  round  about  thee  ;  thou  art  in  thy  home : 
My  slaves  shall  look  upon  thee  as  their  lord, 
And  from  mine  own  example  learn  obedience. 
Come  forth,  ye  maidens ;  slaves,  come  hither  t 

PHAON. 

Sappho  I 
How  can  I  e'er  requite  so  many  favors  ? 
I  am  weighed  down  by  my  increasing  debt. 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  27 


SCENE  FOURTH. 

The  same,  Eucharis,  Melitta,  Rhamnes,  male  and  female 
attendants. 

RHAMNES. 

Thou  calledst,  lady  ? 

SAPPHO. 

Ay,  come  hither  all. 
Behold  your  master. 

rhamnes  (half  to  himself  amazed). 
Master  ? 

SAPPHO. 

Who  speaks  here? 
What  wouldst  thou  answer  ? 

rhamnes  {drawing  back). 
Nothing. 

SAPPHO. 

Silence,  then. 
Behold  your  master :  what  he  shall  desire 
Is  law  to  you,  as  were  it  I  who  spoke. 
Woe  unto  him  who  shall  refuse  obedience, 
Whom  but  a  passing  shade  upon  this  brow 


28  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

Accuses  of  neglect  of  my  command. 

Offence  against  myself  I  can  forgive, 

A  disrespect  to  him  will  rouse  my  anger,  — 

And  now,  dear  friend,  confide  thee  to  their  care : 

Thou  'rt  weary  with  the  journey ;  let  them  practise 

The  sacred  rites  of  hospitality, 

Accepting  frankly  this  first  gift  of  Sappho. 

PHAON. 

Oh,  that  my  whole  past  life  might  be  cast  from  me  ; 
That  I  might  change  it  as  we  change  our  garments, 
And  so  regain  collectedness  and  clearness, 
In  very  truth  be  what  my  wish  would  make  me. 
Farewell,  then,  Sappho ;  not  I  trust  for  long, 

SAPPHO. 

I  wait  for  thee.     Farewell !  —  Stay  thou,  Melitta ! 


SCENE  FIFTH. 
SAPPHO.       MELITTA. 

Sappho  {after  following  him  with  her  eyes). 


Well,  my  Melitta  ?  speak. 


MELITTA. 

What  will  my  mistress  ? 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  29 


SAPPHO. 

Does  blood  flow  only  in  these  veins  of  mine 
While  all  your  hearts  are  stiffened  into  ice  ? 
Thou  bast  beheld  him,  thou  hast  heard  his  voice ; 
The  selfsame  airs  that  played  about  his  brow 
Have  visited  that  lifeless  breast  of  thine ; 
And  yet  a  meaningless  "  What  will  my  mistress  ?  " 
Is  the  first  sound  to  issue  from  thy  lips. 
Verily,  I  could  hate  thee,  —  Go !  — 

{Melitta  turns  to  go  in  silence?) 

Sappho  {throwing  herself  upon  the  bench  of  turf). 

Melitta ! 
Is  there  indeed,  then,  nothing  thou  canst  tell  me 
That  would  rejoice  my  heart  to  hear,  dear  child  ? 
Thou  didst  behold  him,  didst  thou  notice  nothing 
In  what  thou  sawest  that  would  be  worth  the  telling  ? 
Why,  girl,  where  were  thine  eyes  ? 

MELITTA. 

Thou  oft  hast  told  us 
It  was  not  meet  when  in  a  strangers  presence 
For  maidens  to  be  lavish  of  their  glances. 

SAPPHO. 

And  thou,  poor  girl,  didst  keep  thine  on  the  ground  ? 

{Kissing  her?) 
So  that  was  it !     The  rule  was  not  for  thee, 


30  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

But  for  those  older,  who  are  less  discreet : 
A  child  may  do  what  ill  becomes  the  maiden. 

{Measuring  her  with  her  eyes.) 
But  now  I  look  at  thee,  I  find  thee  changed 
Since  I  have  been  away ;  I  scarce  should  know  thee, 
Thou  art  become  so  tall,  so  — 

(Kissing  her  again.) 

Ah,  my  darling, 
Thou  wast  quite  right :  the  rule  was  for  thee  also. 

{Rising.) 
But  why  art  thou  so  silent  and  so  shy  ? 
Thou  wast  not  so  of  old  ;  what  dost  thou  fear  ? 
'Tis  not  thy  mistress,  Sappho,  stands  before  thee : 
Sappho,  thy  friend,  addresses  thee,  Melitta. 
The  pride  and  arrogance  and  angry  temper 
And  all  that  else  was  evil  in  thy  friend 
Were  left  behind ;  they  came  not  back  with  me, 
But  all  were  sunk  within  the  water's  bosom, 
As  I  sailed  through  it,  seated  by  his  side. 
For  therein  lies  the  magic  power  of  love, 
That  it  ennobles  all  it  breathes  upon, 
Like  to  the  sun  that  with  its  golden  ray 
Transforms  the  very  thunder-clouds  to  gold. 
Forgive  me  if  I  e'er  with  hasty  speech 
Or  bitter  word  have  given  thee  offence ; 
Henceforward  we  will  like  trusting  sisters  live 
In  his  companionship,  alike  in  all 
Except  in  the  distinction  of  his  love. 
I  will  learn  gentleness,  be  kind  and  good. 


SAPPHO:    A  TRAGEDY.  31 

MELITTA. 

Art  thou  not  now,  wast  thou  not  ever  so  ? 

SAPPHO. 

Ay,  good  as  we  call  good  what  is  not  bad ; 
But  that  is  not  enough  for  such  reward. 
Dost  think  he  will  be  happy  here,  Melitta  ? 

MELITTA. 

Could  any  e'er  be  otherwise  with  thee  ? 

SAPPHO. 

What  can  poor  Sappho  offer  her  beloved  ? 
In  the  rich  fulness  of  his  youth  he  stands, 
Life's  fairest  blossoms  clustering  thick  about  him ; 
His  just-awakened  mind,  with  glad  surprise 
Beholding  the  array  of  its  own  powers, 
Boldly  extends  its  wings ;  its  eagle  eye 
Fixed  longingly  on  what  is  best  and  highest 
All  that  is  great  and  good  and  high  and  fair 
Belongs  to  him :  the  world  is  to  the  strong. 
And  I !  —  O  all  ye  Deities  of  heaven, 
Restore  to  me  the  time  that  is  gone  by ; 
Obliterate  within  this  breast  the  furrows 
Deep-worn  of  sorrows  that  are  past,  past  joys ; 
What  I  have  felt  and  said  and  done  and  suffered, 
Make  it  not  be,  not  even  in  memory  ! 
Oh  lead  me  backward  to  that  early  time 


32  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

When  still  a  timid  child  with  rounded  cheeks, 
A  strange  unrest  within  my  boding  heart, 
1  trod  the  untried  world  with  untried  senses  ; 
When  yet  anticipation,  not  transformed 
To  harsh  experience,  struck  the  golden  strings  ; 
When  love  was  yet  a  magic  realm  to  me, 
Strange,  unexplored,  a  realm  of  wonderland  I 
{Leaning  on  Melitta's  breast?) 

MELITTA. 

What  is  it  ails  my  mistress  :  art  thou  ill  ? 

SAPPHO. 

I  stand  upon  the  edge  of  the  wide  gulf 

That  threatening  yawns  between  myself  and  him. 

The  golden  land  is  beckoning  me  across  : 

I  reach  it  with  mine  eye,  but  tread  it  not. — 

Alas  for  him  who  lets  the  empty  phantom 

Of  fame,  of  glory,  tempt  from  his  safe  home ! 

On  a  wild  stormy  ocean  he  embarks 

And  in  a  fragile  boat.     No  shade  of  trees, 

No  sprouting  seed  is  there,  nor  any  flower  ; 

Only  the  gray  immensity  about  him. 

He  sees  the  cheerful  shore,  but  far  away  j 

And,  blending  faintly  with  the  surging  waters, 

Voices  of  loved  ones  steal  upon  his  ear. 

If  he  bethink  himself,  and  turn  him  back 

To  seek  the  home  which  he  forsook  so  lightly, 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  33 

The  spring  is  gone,  and  gone,  alas  !  the  flowers : 

{Taking  off  the  wreath^  and  looking  at  it  sadly?) 
Only  a  rustling  of  dry  leaves  is  left  him, 

MELITTA. 

How  beautiful  the  wreath  and  what  an  honor  I 
One  thousands  have  contended  for  in  vain. 

SAPPHO. 

One  thousands  have  contended  for  in  vain ; 

Ay,  that  is  true,  Melitta,  is  it  not  ? 

One  thousands  have  contended  for  in  vain. 

{Putting  the  wreath  again  upon  her  head?) 
Let  fame  be  not  despised  by  its  possessor : 
It  is  no  empty  sound  devoid  of  meaning, 
But  with  its  touch  bestows  a  godlike  power. 
Courage  !  I  am  not  poor ;  but  in  exchange 
For  his  great  wealth  have  equal  wealth  to  give  ; 
For  the  fair  crown  he  offers  of  the  present, 
The  blossoms  of  the  past  and  of  the  future. 
Thou  art  amazed ;  thou  dost  not  understand  me  ? 
Well  that  thou  dost  not ;  pray  thou  never  may  1 

MELITTA. 

Thou  art  not  angry  with  me  ? 

SAPPHO. 

Nay,  dear  child.  # 
Go  join  the  others  now,  and  let  me  know 
When  'tis  thy  master's  wish  to  speak  with  me. 
2*  c 


34  SAPPHO:    A  TRAGEDY. 

SCENE  SIXTH. 

sappho  (alone). 

She  rests  her  head  upon  her  hand  lost  in  thought ;  then,  seating 
herself  upon  the  grassy  bench,  she  takes  her  lyre,  and  accompanies 
the  following  words  with  occasional  accords. 

Gold-enthronfed  Aphrodite, 
Artifice-weaving  daughter  of  Zeus, 
Oh,  delude  me  not  with  love's  anguish ! 
Bruise  not,  Goddess,  this  fluttering  heart. 

But  descend,  if  ever  the  measures 
Sung  to  my  lyre  have  charmed  thine  ear  ; 
For  my  call  thou  often  hast  heeded, 
Leaving  thy  father's  golden  abode. 

Thou  wouldst  harness  thy  glittering  chariot, 
And  thy  doves,  a  frolicsome  pair, 
Gaily  spreading  their  darkling  pinions, 
Bore  thee  downward  from  heaven  to  earth. 

Swift  thou  earnest,  Deity,  wearing 
Radiant  smiles  on  thy  deathless  brow, 
Asking  what  grief  afflicted  the  wailer, 
Wherefore  rang  upward  the  suppliant's  cry. 


. 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  35 

"  What  is  that  passionate  bosom's  longing; 
Whom  does  that  beating  heart  desire 
In  the  snares  of  love  to  entangle ; 
Who,  O  Sappho,  doeth  thee  wrong  ? 

"  Though  he  now  flee,  he  quick  shall  pursue  thee  ; 
Scorns  he  thy  gifts,  gifts  soon  shall  he  bring  ; 
Yea,  though  he  love  not,  love  shall  soon  thrill  him, 
Making  him  follow  its  every  sign." 

Come  to  me  now,  and  lighten  my  bosom 
Of  this  burden  of  sore  unrest ; 
Help  me  attain  the  end  that  I  sigh  for ; 
Be  my  ally  in  this  contest  of  love. 

(Leans  her  head  back  wearily!) 
The  curtain  falls. 


ACT  SECOND. 

An  open  space  as  before. 
SCENE  FIRST. 

PHAON. 

How  grateful  this  repose !  the  noise  of  feasting, 
The  sound  of  cymbal-players  and  voice  of  lutes, 


36  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

4 

The  uproar  of  unbridled  merriment, 
Reach  me  not  here  beneath  these  quiet  trees, 
That  whispering  low,  as  fearful  to  disturb, 
Invite  to  solitary  contemplation. 

How  all  has  changed  within  me  since  the  hour     . 
I  left  my  parents  and  my  quiet  home,  ,  * 

And  towards  Olympia  turned  my  coursers'  heads! 
In  cheerful  meditation,  I  was  wont 
To  follow  out  the  tangled  threads  of  feeling 
With  a  keen  eye,  and  bring  them  into  order, 
Until  as  knowledge  all  lay  cleai;  before,  me. 
But  now,  as  on  a  sultry  summer  night, 
A  heavy  mist,  tormenting  and  yet  pleasing, 
Lies  brooding  o'er  my  senses,  while  the  flash 
Of  thought  like  distant  lightning  through  it  darts, 
Now  here,  now  there,  now  vanished  altogether, 
And  makes  of  all  a  torturing  confusion. 
A  veil  impenetrable  hides  the  past : 
I  scarce  to-day  remember  yesterday, 
Scarce  in  this  hour  recall  the  one  just  gone, 
I  ask  myself,  Am  I  indeed  the  same 
Who  stood  beside  her  at  the  Olympic  games, 
Beside  her  in  the  moment  of  her  triumph  ? 
Was  it  my  name  mingled  with  that  of  Sappho 
The  people's  shouts  sent  ringing  through  the  air? 
All  answers,  Yes ;  and  yet  I  scarce  believe. 
How  pitiful  a  being  then  is  man, 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  37 

If  that  which  hoped  for  quickens  all  his  senses, 
When  grasped,  but  stupefies  them  into  sleep  1 
Ere  I  had  seen  and  known  her,  while  her  image 
Still  floated  undefined  on  fancy's  canvas, 
I  deemed  it  easy  for  a  look  from  her, 
For  one  kind  word,  to  sacrifice  my  life ; 
And  now  that  she  is  mine,  that  I  possess  her, 
Now  that  my  wintry  and  slow-creeping  wishes 
As  golden  butterflies  are  playing  round  me, 
I  still  have  doubts,  and  hesitate  and  question. 
Alas !  I  here  forget  my  very  self 
And  her  and  home  and  parents.  — 

O  my  parents, 
v  Why  have  I  not  remembered  you  till  now, 
Why  left  you  in  this  long  uncertainty? 
Perchance  ye  now  are  mourning  for  my  death, 
Or  rumor  may  already  have  made  known 
Your  son,  who  to  Olympia  had  been  sent, 
Not  to  seek  love,  but  in  the  games  to  share, 
In  Sappho's  arms  — 

Who  dare  cast  blame  on  her, 
Pride  of  her  sex,  the  crown  of  womanhood  ? 
Should  envy's  poisonous  breath  assail  her  name, 
I  would  defend  her,  were  a  world  against  me. 
Surely  my  father  if  he  could  but  see  her 
Would  lay  aside  the  ancient  prejudice 
The  sight  of  bold-faced  maidens  with  their  zithers 
Has  printed  on  his  heart  with  holy  horror. 
{Lost  in  thought!) 


38  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

Who  comes  ?  —  the  sound  of  revel  even  here  ? 
Hateful  intrusion  !  —  whither  flee  ?    Ah,  hither ! 
(Enters  the  grotto.) 


SCENE  SECOND. 

Eucharis.    Melitta.     Female  attendants  with  flowers  and 
wreaths. 

EUCHARIS. 

Haste,  maidens,   haste !  bring  flowers,  and  yet  more 

flowers ; 
Flowers  to  deck  house  and  hall  and  court  and  columns ; 
Deck  threshold,  door,  and  flower-beds  too  with  flowers; 
Add  spice  to  spices,  for  to-day  our  mistress 
Is  keeping  a  glad  festival  of  love, 

maidens  (showing  their  flowers). 
Behold ! 
(They  begin  to  twine  flowers  about  the  trees  and  columns!) 

EUCHARIS, 

Tis  well,  'tis  well  j  but  thou,  Melitta, 
Where  are  thy  flowers,  girl  ? 

melitta  (looking  at  her  empty  hands). 
Mine? 

EUCHARIS. 

Ay  surely,  thine* 
Why,  see  the  little  dreamer,  how  she  stands  I 
Dost  thou  alone  come  hither  empty-handed  ? 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  39 


MELITTA. 

I  will  go  fetch  some. 

EUCHARIS. 

Will  go  fetch,  she  says, 
And  stirs  no  jot  and  neither  wills  nor  fetches. 
Thou  little  hypocrite,  come  now,  confess 
What  'tis  that  ails  thee ;  wherefore  at  the  table 
The  mistress  often  glanced  across  at  thee 
With  an  arch  look  and  smile  upon  her  face, 
And  then  would  mockingly  cast  down  her  eyes. 
Oft  as  she  did  it,  I  could  see  thee  blush 
And  tremble  with  confusion,  and  forget 
The  service  that  thy  hand  so  oft  had  rendered. 
And  when  at  last  she  bade  thee  taste  the  cup 
For  the  fair  stranger,  and  thou  timidly 
Hadst  raised  it  to  thy  lips  and  touched  the  brim, 
She  cried  out  suddenly,  Cast  down  thine  eyes ! 
And  lo,  full  half  the  mighty  cup's  contents 
Were  all  at  once  poured  on  the  polished  floor ; 
Then  Sappho  laughed  aloud.     What  meant  it  all  ? 
Confess,  confess  ;  no  subterfuge  will  help  thee. 

MELITTA. 

Oh,  let  me  go  I 

EUCHARIS, 

Nay,  nay,  no  mercy,  child  ; 
Hold  up  thy  head  and  make  a  full  confession. 


40  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

Oh  woe  !  I  see  the  tears  begin  to  start ; 
Thou  naughty  child  !  —  Well,  well,  I  say  no  more, 
Only  no  tears !  —  But  be  not  often  thus, 
Or  thou  wilt  really  vex  me ;  dry  thine  eyes. 
Are  all  your  blossoms  gone  ?  then  come  away, 
And  let  us  gather  more  !  —  Sit  here,  Melitta, 
Here  are  still  roses,  help  us  weave  our  garlands  ; 
Be  busy,  child,  and  let  me  have  no  tears. 
(Goes  out  with  the  maidens). 


SCENE  THIRD. 

melitta  {alone). 

She  sits  down  on  the  grassy  bench,  and  begins  to  weave  a  gar- 
land ;  but  soon  shakes  her  head  sadly,  and  puts  her  work  by. 

I  cannot :  'tis  as  if  my  brain  would  burst, 
And  in  my  breast  my  heart  is  beating  wildly. 

Here  I  must  sit,  forsaken,  solitary, 
/Far  from  my  parents,  in  a  foreign  land, 
The  chains  of  slavery  upon  these  hands 
Which  I  stretch  out  in  vain  to  find  my  loved  ones. 
Alas  for  me  !  I  sit  alone,  forsaken, 
^  And  no  one  hearkens  to  me,  no  one  heeds  me. 

With  tearful  eyes  I  kindred  see  and  friends 
Leaning  for  solace  on  a  kindred  breast. 
In  all  the  land  there  beats  no  heart  for  me; 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  4* 

My  friends  are  in  their  far,  far  distant  home. 
Children  I  see  at  play  about  their  father, 
Kissing  his  honored  brow  and  reverend  locks  ; 
Between  me  and  my  father  lies  the  sea ; 
No  greeting  from  his  child,  no  kiss  can  reach  him. 
'Tis  true  they  act  as  if  they  loved  me  here, 
Nor  do  they  let  me  want  for  kindly  accents ; 
And  yet  it  is  not  love  :  'tis  but  compassion^ 
Which  even  to  the  slave  gives  gentle  words. 
The  lips  that  late  with  flatteries  overflowed 
May  soon  be  filled  with  bitterness  and  scorn : 

They  are  allowed  to  love  and  hate  at  will, 
And  what  is  in  their  hearts  their  lips  may  speak; 
Them  gold  and  purple  deck  and  costly  jewels, 
And  wondering  looks  pursue  them  as  they  move  j 
But  the  slave's  place  is  by  the  lowly  hearth, 
Where  not  a  look  can  reach  her  nor  a  question, 
No  eye,  alas  !  nor  any  thought  or  wish.  — 
Ye  Gods  who  oft  have  hearkened  to  my  prayer, 
And  poured  your  blessings  down  with  bounteous  hand, 
When  I  have  prayed  out  of  a  pious  heart, 
Oh  !  listen  to  me  once  again  with  favor, 
And  mercifully  lead  me  to  my  home, 
That  I  may  rest  my  sorrow-laden  brow 
Upon  a  tender  sympathizing  breast ; 
Lead  me  unto  my  own,  or  take  me  up,  — 
Oh,  take  me  up  unto  yourselves  —  yourselves! 


42  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 


SCENE  FOURTH. 
PHAON.      MELITTA. 

phaon  (who  during  the  preceding  monologue  appeared  at  the 
entrance  of  the  grotto \  but  drew  back  and  listened^  now 
comes  forward,  and  from  behind  melitta  lays  his  hand 
upon  her  shoulder). 

So  young,  yet  so  desponding,  maiden  ? 

melitta  (starting). 

Ah! 

PHAON. 

I  heard  thee  praying  to  the  gods  but  now 

For  friendly  sympathy.     Here  is  a  friend. 

A  common  grief  unites  like  common  blood, 

And  the  unhappy  everywhere  are  kin. 

I  also  mourn  the  parting  from  dear  parents ; 

I  too  am  longing  for  my  distant  home. 

Come,  let  us  tell  our  griefs,  that  each  one's  sorrow 

May  be  a  balsam  for  the  other's  heart. 

Still  silent ! — wherefore  so  distrustful,  maiden  ? 

Look  up  at  me ;  for  I  mean  kindly  by  thee. 

(Putting  his  hand  wider  her  chin  and  raising  her  head.) 
Aha  !  the  little  cup-bearer,  I  see, 
Who  gave  the  floor  her  wine,  and  not  the  guest ; 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  43 

Therefore  so  anxious  ?  nay,  'twas  a  mishap 
That  but  amused  me  as  it  did  thy  mistress. 
(melitta,  who  had  shrunk  back  at  the  last  words,  raises 
her  eyes  to  his,  then  rises  to  go.) 

I  had  not  meant  to  give  thee  pain,  my  child, 

Whence  have  those  gentle  eyes  so  grave  a  look  ? 

Thou  shalt  not  go  till  thou  hast  answered  me. 

I  had  observed  thee  in  the  banquet  hall : 

Thy  maidenly  reserve  made  grateful  contrast 

To  the  wild  tumult  of  the  revellers. 

Who  art  thou,  and  what  keeps  thee  here  alone  ? 

Thou  didst  not  share  the  feast :  I  saw  thee  serving; 

The  slaves'  familiarity  appeared 

To  claim  thee  as  companion,  and  — 

MELITTA. 

I  am. 

{Turning  to  go.) 


Impossible ! 


phaon  (detaining  her). 


MELITTA. 

What  wilt  thou  with  the  slave  ? 
Let  her  go  seek  the  company  of  slaves  I 
(Tears  choking  her  voice!) 
Oh  take  me  up  unto  yourselves,  ye  Gods ! 

phaon  (putting  his  arm  about  her). 

Thou  art  in  tears ;  thou  tremblest :  calm  thyself  I 
The  chains  of  slavery  only  bind  the  hands : 


44  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

The  mind  makes  freemen  or  makes  bondmen  of  us. 
Be  calm :  Sappho  is  merciful  and  kind ; 
A  word  from  me,  and  she  without  a  ransom 
Will  give  thee  back  unto  thy  home,  thy  father. 

(melitta  silently  shakes  her  head?) 
Trust  me  she  will,  —  or  is  it  thou  who  wilt  not  ? 
Has  passed  so  suddenly  the  eager  longing 
Thou  felt'st  but  now  to  see  thy  native  land  ? 

MELITTA. 

Where  is  my  native  land  ? 

PHAON. 

Dost  thou  not  know  ? 

MELITTA. 

A  little  child  they  tore  me  from  its  keeping : 
Its  vales  and  flowers  my  memory  has  retained, 
But  not  its  name.     Only  methinks  it  lay 
Near  to  the  rising  sun :  all  was  so  bright. 

PHAON. 

Then  it  is  far  from  here  ? 

MELITTA. 

Far,  very  far. 
I  was  surrounded  there  by  other  trees, 
And  other  was  the  perfume  of  the  flowers, 
In  bluer  heavens  than  these  shone  fairer  stars, 


SAPPHO:    A  TRAGEDY.  45 

And  all  the  dwellers  in  the  land  were  kind 

I  in  the  midst  of  many  children  lived, 

And  I  remember  well  a  white-haired  man, 

Father  I  used  to  call  him,  who  caressed  me ; 

And  yet  another  man,  so  fair  and  good, 

Brown  hair  and  eyes  he  had  —  almost  like  thine— 

PHAON. 

Why  dost  thou  pause  ?    This  man  — 

MELITTA. 

He  too — 


Say,  did  he  not  ? 


PHAON. 

Caressed  thee : 


{Taking  her  hand.) 

MELITTA  (softly). 

I  was  a  child. 

PHAON. 

I  know ; 
Sweet,  innocent,  an  unsuspecting  child. 
{Dropping  her  hand.) 
But  tell  me  further. 

MELITTA. 

All  went  happily 
Till  I  was  waked  one  night  by  piercing  screams, 


46  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

That  from  all  sides  rang  wildly  in  mine  ears. 

The  attendants  came  :  they  took  me  up  and  bore  me 

Into  the  cruel  night.     Round  me  I  saw 

Dwellings  in  flames ;  men  fighting,  fleeing,  falling. 

A  ruffian  came  with  outstretched  hand  and  seized  me ; 

Then  all  was  groans,  screams,  furious  battle-cries. 

When  next  I  woke  I  was  upon  a  ship, 

That  like  an  arrow  darted  through  the  waves. 

There  saw  I  other  maids  and  children  weeping ; 

But  ever  smaller  grew  the  unhappy  band, 

The  farther  we  were  parted  from  our  home. 

For,  many  days  and  nights,  ay,  months,  we  sailed, 

Till  I  was  left  alone  with  those  wild  men. 

At  length  the  coast  of  Lesbos  rose  before  us, 

And  I  was  put  on  shore.     There  Sappho  saw  me, 

Offered  them  gold,  and  I  became  her  slave. 

PHAON. 

And  has  thy  lot  been  hard  in  Sappho's  hands? 

MELITTA. 

Nay ;  she  received  me  kindly,  dried  my  tears, 
And  cared  for  me,  teaching  me  lovingly  ; 
For,  although  violent  at  times  and  hasty, 
Sappho  is  good  at  heart,  ay,  kind  and  true. 

PHAON. 

And  yet  thou  never  couldst  forget  thy  home  ? 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  47 

MELITTA. 

Alas,  it  was  forgotten  but  too  soon ; 
Absorbed  in  dance  and  play  and  in  my  tasks, 
I  seldom  thought  of  those  I  'd  left  behind. 
But  sometimes  when  I  'm  troubled  and  unhappy, 
A  longing  takes  possession  of  my  heart, 
And  with  sweet  sadness  memory  lifts  the  veil 
That  hides  from  me  that  golden,  sunny  distance. 
And  so  to-day :  my  heart  was  heavy,  troubled, 
And  quivered  at  each  lightly  spoken  word, 
As  if  its  very  fibres  were  laid  bare. 
But  all  is  well  again,  and  I  am  happy. 

A   VOICE   WITHOUT. 

Melitta ! 

PHAON.     . 

Hark !  they  call  thee. 

MELITTA. 

I  must  go. 
(She  gathers  up  the  flowers  and  the  wreath  she  had  begun.) 

PHAON. 

What  hast  thou  in  thy  hands  ? 


MELITTA. 


PHAON. 


Flowers. 

And  for  whom  ? 


48  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

MELITTA, 

For  thee,— for  thee  and  Sappho, 


PHAON. 


MELITTA, 


Stay! 

They  call  me. 


PHAON, 

Thou  shalt  not  go  with  such  averted  look. 
Come,  let  me  see  thy  flowers ! 

MELITTA. 

Here! 

PHAON. 

Take  this  rose: 
(Fastens  it  upon  her  bosom.) 
Let  it  remind  thee  of  this  hour ;  remind  thee 
That  not  in  thine  own  home  alone,  but  here, 
Even  in  this  far  land,  are  —  friends, 

(melitta,  who  had  shrunk  back  at  his  touch,  now  stands 
motionless  with  heaving  bosom,  her  arms  hanging  at  her 
side,  her  head  bowed  and  eyes  cast  down,  phaon  steps 
a' little  back  and  observes  her.) 

VOICE    FROM   WITHOUT. 

Melitta ! 

MELITTA. 

Didst  call  me  ? 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  49 

PHAON. 

No,  not  I :  'twas  from  the  house. 

m  elitta  {gathering  up  the  flowers  she  had  let  fait). 
I  come, 

PHAON, 

So  chary  of  thy  gifts,  Melitta  ? 
Does  my  rose  merit  nothing  in  return  ? 

MELITTA, 

I  make  return  ?    What  can  a  poor  girl  give? 

PHAON, 

Gold  is  the  gift  of  vanity  and  pride : 

Friendship  and  love  give  flowers,  and  flowers  thou  hast 

MELITTA, 

What !  these  that  those  wild  maidens  gathered  for  — 
Ah,  never  I  — 

PHAON. 

But  what  then  ? 

MELITTA, 

Alas,  they  Ve  stripped 
The  bushes  \  not  a  blossom  to  be  seen. 
Upon  that  branch  still  hangs  indeed  a  rose : 
But  'tis  too  high  for  me ;  I  cannot  reach  it 
3  » 


50  SAPPHO:    A  TRAGEDY. 

PHAON. 

Try.    I  will  help  thee. 

MELITTA. 

Nay! 

PHAON. 

And  wherefore  not  ? 
I  give  not  up  my  claim  so  easily, 

melitta  {mounting  on  the  bench). 
Come  then :  I  '11  bend  the  branch  for  thee. 

PHAON. 

Ayf  do ! 

melitta  (standing  on  tiptoe,  and  bending  down  the  branch 
on  the  end  of  which  hangs  a  rose). 

Canst  reach  ? 

phaon  (who,  without  heeding  the  rose,  has  been  looking  only 
at  melitta). 
Not  yet. 

MELITTA. 

But  now ;  —  ah  me,  I  slip, 
I  'm  falling ! 

PHAON. 

Nay,  I  hold  thee  ! 
(She  lets  go  the  branch;   totters,  and  falls  into  phaon's 
outstretched  arms.) 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  51 


MELITTA. 

Let  me  go  I 

ph aon  (pressing  her  to  him). 
Melitta! 

MELITTA. 

Leave,  oh  leave  me!  —  ah ! 

PHAON. 

Melitta! 
{Hastily  kissing  her  Hj>s.) 


SCENE  FIFTH. 
The  same.    Sappho,  simply  dressed,  without  lyre  and  wreath. 

Sappho  (entering). 
I  have  to  seek  thee,  friend ; — but  what  is  this  ? 

MELITTA. 

Hark,  'tis  my  mistress,  Sappho ! 

PHAON. 

Sappho  here  ? 
(Releases  her.    Pause.) 

SAPPHO. 

Melitta  I 


52  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 


MELITTA. 

Lady! 

SAPPHO, 


What  has  brought  thee  here? 


MELITTA. 

I  came  to  look  for  flowers. 

SAPPHO. 

Nor  looked  in  vain. 

MELITTA. 

Yon  rose  — 

SAPPHO. 

I  see  it  burning  on  thy  lips. 

MELITTA. 

It  hung  too  high. 

SAPPHO. 

Not  high  enough  perhaps. 
Gol— 

MELITTA. 

Wilt  thou  have  me  —  ? 

SAPPHO. 

Go,  I  tell  thee,  go! 


Phaont 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  53 

SCENE  SIXTH. 
SAPPHO.      PHAON. 

sappho  {after  a  pause). 

PHAON. 

•    Sappho ! 

SAPPHO. 

Why  didst  thou  leave  so  soon  j 
Before  the  feast  was  ended  ?  Thou  wert  missed. 

PHAON. 

I  love  not  wine,  nor  care  for  noisy  pleasures. 

SAPPHO. 

For  noisy  pleasures  ?    That  sounds  like  reproach. 
Was  I  then  wrong  to  celebrate  thy  coming 
With  loud  rejoicings  and  demonstrative  ? 

PHAON. 

Thou  misinterpretest  me. 

SAPPHO. 

The  full  heart 
Seeks  the  full  stream  of  noisy  mirth  sometimes, 
That  in  the  tumult  of  the  general  joy 
It  may,  in  stillness,  unobserved  rejoice. 


54       *         SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 


PHAON. 

Ah,  true. 

SAPPHO. 

Besides,  I  had  to  show  my  thanks 
To  our  good  neighbors  for  their  proofs  of  love : 
Thou  knowest  they  have  no  pastime  without  wine. 
Henceforth  shall  no  unwelcome  banqueting 
Mar  the  repose  I  love  not  less  than  thou. 

PHAON. 

I  thank  thee. 

SAPPHO. 

Wilt  thou  go  ? 

PHAON. 

Wilt  thou  I  stay? 

SAPPHO. 

It  is  for  thee  to  go  or  stay  at  pleasure. 

PHAON. 

Thou  'rt  angry  ? 

sappho  (with  emotion). 
Phaon ! 

PHAON. 

Wilt  thou  aught? 

SAPPHO. 

Nought  — Stay! 
One  thing  (with  an  effort) :  I  saw  thee  jesting  with  Me- 
litta. 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  £5 

PHAON. 

Melitta ! — who  ?  —  ah  yes,  thou  *rt  right ;  what  then  ? 

SAPPHO. 

She  is  a  sweet,  pure  child. 

PHAON. 

Ay,  so  she  seems. 

SAPPHO. 

Among  my  maidens  she  is  dearest  to  me,— 

Among  my  children,  I  indeed  might  say ; 

For  I  have  always  loved  them  as  my  children. 

If  I  have  not  already  loosed  their  bonds, 

It  is  that,  dearer  having  been  denied 

By  nature,  I  would  not  remove  too  soon 

These  homeless  orphans  from  their  teacher's  eye, 

And  from  a  mother's  tender  watchfulness ; 

Such  has  my  custom  ever  been,  and  many 

Of  Mytilene's  fairest  citizens 

Recall  with  love  and  gratitude  the  work 

That  Sappho  wrought  on  them  in  earlier  days. 

PHAON. 

Thou  art  quite  right,  quite  right, 

SAPPHO, 

Of  all  the  maidens 
That  have  been  brought  me  by  caprice  of  fortune 


i 


$6  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

Was  never  one  more  dear  than  this  Melitta, 

The  gentle  maiden  with  the  quiet  heart. 

Although  not  great  in  intellect  or  talent, 

And  without  skill  in  practice  of  the  arts, 

1  loved  and  prized  her  above  all  the  rest, 

For  her  so  modest,  unpretending  nature, 

Her  sensitive  reserve  that  ever  watchful 

Seems  like  the  noiseless  garden-snail,  at  once 

House  and  inhabitant,  which  terrified 

Draws  back  into  itself  at  each  light  noise, 

And  feeling  all  about  with  subtle  touch 

Scarce  ventures  to  lay  hold  of  aught  that  's  strange, 

But  fastens  itself  firmly  where  it  clings, 

Arid  only  with  its  life  gives  up  its  grasp, 

PHAON. 

Indeed,  thou  art  quite  right. 

SAPPHO. 

I  should  regret,  — 
Forgive  me,  dearest  friend,  —  I  should  regret 
If  ever  any  thoughtless,  passing  jest 
Should  waken  wishes  in  this  maiden's  heart 
With  cruel  sting  to  rankle  unfulfilled. 
For  I  could  wish  that  she  might  never  know 
The  wasting  pain  of  disappointed  hope, 
Or  how  an  unrequited  love  can  torture. 
My  friend  — 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  $7 

PH  AON. 

What  wast  thou  saying  ? 


SAPPHO. 
PHAON. 

I  hear  thee :  love  can  torture. 


Hear'st  thou  not? 


SAPPHO. 

Torture!  ay. 
Thou  art  not  in  the  mood  for  listening  now : 
Another  time  we  will  speak  more  of  this. 

PHAON. 

Yes,  yes ;  another  time. 

SAPPHO. 

For  now,  farewell. 
It  is  my  wont  to  consecrate  this  hour 
Unto  the  Muses,  in  yon  quiet  grotto. 
May  I  not  hope  to-day  to  find  the  Muses, 
I  am  secure  at  least  of  finding  quiet, 
And  that  I  sorely  need.     Meanwhile,  farewell. 

PHAON. 

Thou  art  not  going  ? 

SAPPHO. 

Dost  thou  wish  —  ? 


58  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 


PHAON. 

Farewell  I 


sappho  (turning  hastily  away). 
Farewell  I 

{Enters  the  grotto) 


SCENE  SEVENTH. 

phaon   (a/one,  after  gazing  for  some  moments  fixedly 
before  him). 

Hast  thou  in  truth  then  ? 

{Looking  about  him) 

She  is  gone.  — 
What  was  it  passed  between  us  ?     Scarce  I  know. 
All  is  confused  :  my  head  is  dull  and  heavy. 

{Looking  at  the  bench) 
'Twas  here  she  sat,  the  lovely,  blooming  child : 

{Seating  himself) 
Here  will  I  lie  and  rest  my  weary  head, 

{Rests  his  head  upon  his  hand. ) 

The  curtain  falls. 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  59 

ACT  THIRD. 
Landscape  as  before.     Phaon  asleep  upon  the  bench. 

SCENE  FIRST. 

v. 

Sappho  {entering from  the  grotto). 

In  vain ;  I  cannot  guide  my  wandering  thoughts. 

That  rove  abroad  and  bring  back  no  refreshment 

Whate'er  I  muse  upon,  whate'er  I  do, 

That  hateful  picture,  from  which  I  would  flee 

Beyond  the  utmost  limits  of  this  earth, 

Stands  vividly  before  my  burning  eyes. 

How  he  supported,  how  his  arm  embraced,  — 

And  then  how,  yielding  to  the  tender  impulse,  — 

She  on  his  lips  —  away,  I  will  forget ! 

The  very  thought  is  death  a  thousandfold. 

And  yet  am  I  not  foolish  to  torment  me, 
And  thus  bewail  what  may  have  no  existence? 
For  who  can  tell  what  fugitive  impression, 
What  fancy  of  the  moment,  drew  him  to  her, 
A  something  vanishing  as  soon  as  born, 
Without  design  and  therefore  without  fault  ? 
What  right  have  I  the  measure  of  his  feeling 
l^o  seek  within  my  own  impassioned  heart  ? 

Who  measures  love  of  man  by  woman's  fire, 
He  knows  not  man  and  woman,  life  and  love  ; 


I 


60  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

For  changeful  is  the  restless  mind  of  man, 

And  varies  ever  with  his  varying  life. 

He  enters  free  the  arena  of  existence, 

Surrounded  by  the  rosy  dawn  of  hope  \ 

With  strength  and  courage  as  with  spear  and  shield, 

Equipped  to  conquer  in  the  glorious  strife. 

Too  narrow  seems  the  quiet  world  within : 

His  restless,  daring  spirit  flies  abroad  ; 

And  if  he  meet  with  love,  he  stoops  indeed 

To  raise  the  tender  floweret  from  the  ground, 

Examines  it,  enjoys  it,  coldly  then 

To  add  it  to  the  trophies  in  his  helm. 

Unknown  to  him  that  still,  intensest  flame 

That  love  awakens  in  a  woman's  heart ; 

How  her  desires,  her  thoughts,  her  very  being 

Revolve  about  this  single,  central  point  j 

How  all  her  wishes,  like  the  little  birds 

That  flutter  anxious  round  the  mother's  nest, 

Gather  with  easily  awakened  dread 

About  her  love,  their  cradle  and  their  grave ; 

How  like  a  precious  gem  her  whole  existence 

Is  hung  about  the  neck  of  new-born  love. 

He  loves ;  but  in  his  bosom  there  is  place 

For  something  else  than  only  for  his  love, 

And  much  which  to  the  woman  seems  #a  crime 

Is  but  amusement  and  a  jest  to  him. 

A  kiss,  wherever  met  with  on  his  way, 

He  takes,  nor  ever  thinks  he  does  a  wrong. 


SAPPHO:    A  TRAGEDY.  6l 

Alas  that  it  should  be  so,  but  it  is ! 

{Turnings  and  perceiving  phaon.) 
Ah,  see,  within  the  shadow  of  the  roses  — 
Yes,  it  is  he,  the  beautiful  deceiver  l~~    *""" 
He  sleeps ;  upon  his  brow  what  sweet  repose, 
What  quiet  happiness  !  so  innocence 
Alone  can  breathe,  so  rise  and  fall 
Only  a  bosom  burdened  by  no  ill. 
Yes,  my  beloved,  I  will  trust  thy  sleep, 
Whatever  evil  tale  thy  waking  tells.  * 

Forgive  me,  dearest,  if  in  that  first  moment 
I  hurt  thee  with  suspicion,  if  I  fancied  j 

That  falseness  could  defile  so  pure  a  temple* 
He  smiles,  — his  lips  are  parted,  —  and  a  name 
Seems  trembling  in  their  breath.     Awake !  and,  waking, 
Name  Sappho  who  embraces  thee.     Awake ! 
{Kissing  his  forehead?) 

phaon.  (  Wakes,  stretches  out  his  arms,  and  speaks  with 

half -closed  eyes?) 
Melitta  i 

sappho  (starting  back). 
Ah! 

phaon. 

Who  wakes  me  ?    Who  in  envy 
Frighted  my  dream's  sweet  images  away  ? 
Thou,  Sappho  ?  welcome  !     Something  fair,  I  knew, 
Was  standing  at  my  side,  or  else  my  dream 


62  SAPPHO t    A    TRAGEDY. 

Had  not  assumed  so  fair  a  countenance. 

But  why  art  thou  so  troubled  ?     I  am  happy ; 

The  weight  that  has  lain  heavy  on  my  bosom 

As  by  a  miracle  is  fallen  from  me, 

And  I  again  breathe  freely.     Like  the  wretch 

Who  falls  engulfed  in  the  dark  realm  of  ocean, 

Where  horror  reigns  and  mystery  and  fear, 

When  in  their  arms  the  waves  have  thrown  him  up, 

And  once  again  the  pleasant,  golden  sunlight, 

The  breezes'  kiss,  the  cheerful  sound  of  voices, 

About  his  senses  suddenly  are  playing,  — 

So  stand  I  happy,  blissful,  drunk  with  joy 

And  only  wish,  weighed  down  by  so  much  pleasure, 

For  other  senses  or  for  less  enjoyment. 

sappho  {to  herself}. 
Melitta  1 

PHAON. 

Be  thou  joyful,  love,  and  gay : 
It  is  so  beauteous  here,  so  heavenly  fair  1 
With  downy  wings,  the  gracious  summer  eve 
Sinks  wearied  down  upon  the  quiet  fields ; 
The  ocean's  amorous  bosom  heaves  and  sinks 
With  longing  to  embrace  the  lord  of  day, 
Whose  steeds  already  hasten  toward  the  west 
A  gentle  breath  the  slender  poplars  stirs, 
That,  as  they  dally  with  the  virgin  columns, 
Love's  greeting  send  across  to  us,  and  whisper, 
"  Behold,  we  love ;  ye  mortals,  do  as  we  1 " 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  63 

sappho  (to  herself). 

My  heart  is  fain  to  yield  itself  again. 

But  no :  I  Ve  looked  too  deep  into  his  soul. 

PHAON. 

A  fever  frenzy  had  possession  of  me, 

But  it  has  vanished  even  as  it  came, 

And  be  assured  that  I  have  never  loved  thee, 

Never  more  truly  loved  than  at  this  moment 

Let  us  be  glad,  then,  glad  and  light  of  heart. 

But  tell  me,  Sappho,  what  thou  think'st  of  dreams. 

SAPPHO. 

They  lie,  and  I  detest  all  liars. 

PHAON. 

See; 
As  I  lay  sleeping  here  just  now,  I  dreamed 
A  strange  and  wondrous  dream.     I  was  transported 
Back  to  Olympia,  as  it  was  when  first 
I  saw  thee  in  the  excitement  of  the  games. 
I  stood  among  the  noisy,  bustling  crowd, 
The  din  of  chariots  and  the  games  about  me. 
Sudden  a  lyre  was  heard  and  all  grew  still : 
'Twas  thou ;  thou  sang'st  the  golden  joys  of  love, 
And  to  its  very  depths  my  soul  was  stirred. 
I  rushed  towards  thee,  but  —  oh,  wonderful! 


64  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

E'en  as  I  did  so  thou  wast  changed  to  me; 

The  form  still  stood  there  as  it  was  before, 

The  crimson  floating  from  the  rounded  shoulders, 

In  the  white  hand  the  golden  lyre  still  rang ; 

But  the  whole  face  was  changed,  the  features  melting, 

Like  mists  that  circle  round  the  purple  heights. 

Gone  of  a  sudden  was  the  laurel  crown ; 

The  lofty  brow  had  lost  its  gravity ; 

The  lips,  which  had  but  lately  sung  the  gods, 

Were  parted  with  a  smile  of  earthly  sweetness ; 

The  countenance,  that  had  been  that  of  Pallas, 

Was  changed  into  the  image  of  a  child : 

In  short  it  was  thyself,  and  not  thyself ; 

Now  Sappho  seemed  the  shape,  and  now — 

Sappho  {with  a  cry). 

Melitta  I 

PHAON. 

Thou  well-nigh  frightenest  me :  — who  says  'twas  she? 
I  scarce  myself  had  guessed  it.  — Thou  art  moved. 

(sappho  with  her  hand  motions  him  to  go.) 
Thou  biddest  me  to  go  ?  yet  hear  me,  Sappho, 
One  word  — 

(sappho  again  motions  him  to  leave  her.) 

PHAON. 

Thou  wilt  not?  —  must  I  go  ? — Farewell. 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  65 


SCENE  SECOND. 

Sappho  (alone,  after  a  pause).     * 

The  bow  has  sprung ; — 

{Pressing  her  hands  upon  her  breast?) 

the  arrow  hit  the  mark. 
What  room  for  further  doubt  ?  all  is  too  clear ; 
*Tis  she  who  dwells  within  his  perjured  breast ; 
Her  shape  that  floats  before  his  shameless  eyes ; 
They  take  her  image  all  those  flattering  dreams 
That  hover  round  the  couch  of  the  deceiver. 
Sappho  forsaken  and  her  slave  preferred  I 
Forsaken !  who  ?  ye  heavens,  and  by  whom  ? 
Am  I  no  more  that  Sappho  who  beheld 
Kings  at  her  feet,  played  with  their  proffered  crowns, 
Saw,  heard  the  haughty  suitors  and  dismissed  them? 
No  more  that  Sappho  who  with  acclamation 
All  Greece  has  hailed  as  its  most  precious  treasure  ? 
Fool  that  I  was  to  leave  the  radiant  heights, 
Where  laurel  crowns,  where  Aganippe  murmurs, 
Where  Muses  mate  while  stars  make  harmony, 
And  to  descend  into  this  narrow  vale 
Where  falseness  dwells,  and  poverty  and  crime. 
My  place  was  there  above,  among  the  clouds : 
Here  is  no  room  for  me  except  the  grave. 
He  whom  the  gods  have  chosen  for  their  own 


66  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

May  not  consort  with  citizens  of  earth  : 

The  mortal  lot  and  heavenly  ne'er  can  mingle 

In  the  same  cup  ;  but  thou  must  choose  between  them. 

Hast  thou  once  chosen  there  is  no  receding; 

One  taste  of  the  immortal  fruit  of  fame, 

Like  to  Proserpina's  pomegranate  seeds, 

Ranks  thee  for  ever  with  the  quiet  shades, 

And  to  the  living  thou  belong'st  no  more. 

Life  may  turn  ne'er  so  sweet  a  face  towards  thee, 

May  sing  her  dulcet  notes  into  thine  ear, 

May  lure  thee  back  with  friendship  and  with  love: 

Beware,  unhappy  !  thinking  to  pluck  roses, 

Thou  wilt  but  press  their  thorns  into  thy  breast. 

Where  is  she  ?     I  would  see  the  wondrous  beauty 
Who  boasts  of  such  a  triumph  over  Sappho. 
What  must  I  think  ?  does  memory  play  me  false, 
That  when  I  question  it  brings  up  before  me 
A  simple  child  with  unformed,  bashful  mien, 
Whose  eyes  are  ever  fixed  upon  the  ground, 
Whose  lips  can  utter  nought  but  childish  nonsense; 
With  empty  breast,  whose  pitiful  emotions, 
But  love  of  play  and  fear  of  punishment 
Can  rouse  sometimes  from  their  lethargic  rest  ? 
Is  there  some  subtle  charm  I  cannot  see 
That  draws  him  with  such  potency  towards  her?  — 
Melitta !  —  I  must  look  on  her !  —  Melitta ! 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  67 


SCENE  THIRD. 

EUCHARIS.      SAPPHO. 

EUCHARIS. 

Thy  pleasure,  lady  ? 

SAPPHO. 

I  would  have  Melitta. 
Where  is  she  ? 

EUCHARIS. 

As  I  think,  within  her  chamber. 

SAPPHO. 

Seeks  the  girl  solitude  ?  —  what  does  she  there  ? 

EUCHARIS. 

I  cannot  tell ;  but  strange  has  been  her  bearing, 

Unlike  herself  her  manner  through  the  day. 

This  morning  she  was  silent  and  in  tears, 

And  yet  but  now  I  met  her  going  gaily, 

Laden  with  linen,  down  to  the  clear  brook 

That  spreads  its  coolness  through  the  myrtle  grove. 

SAPPHO. 

She  is  rejoicing  in  her  triumph.  —  Further ! 

EUCHARIS. 

I  curious  to  know  what  she  could  seek 


68  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

Crept  softly  after  into  the  still  grove 
And  found  her  there  — 

SAPPHO. 

With  him  ? 

EUCHARIS. 

With  whom  ? 

SAPPHO. 

Tell  on. 

EUCHARIS. 

I  found  her  there  in  the  clear  water  standing, 

The  linen  lying  thrown  upon  the  bank. 

Her  dress  upraised,  thinking  no  eye  was  near, 

She  scooped  up  water  with  her  little  hands, 

And  washed  and  rubbed  with  care  her  arms  and  face, 

Which  from  the  sunlight  falling  through  the  leaves, 

And  from  her  eagerness  and  the  rough  way 

In  which  the  little  maiden  set  to  work, 

Were  glowing  o'er  and  o'er  with  fiery  crimson. 

As  there  she  stood  might  Artemis  herself 

Have  held  her  for  the  youngest  of  her  nymphs. 

SAPPHO. 

I  wished  for  facts,  not  for  a  eulogy. 

EUCHARIS. 

Her  long  bath  ended,  Jace  and  neck  and  arms 


SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY.  69 

She  dried,  and,  gaily  singing,  sought  the  house. 
So  lost  in  thought  was  she  and  so  absorbed, 
She  noticed  not  the  leaves  that,  from  the  grove, 
I  flung  upon  her  path  to  startle  her. 
Arrived,  she  shut  herself  within  her  room. 
What  there  she  does  I  know  not,  but  I  heard 
How  she  was  searching  busily  in  chests, 
And  all  the  while  came  snatches  of  gay  song. 

SAPPHO. 

She  sings,  and  Sappho — nay,  I  do  not  weep. 
Bring  her  to  me !  — 

EUCHARIS. 

Melitta  ? 

SAPPHO. 

Ay;  whom  else?— 
Melitta  I  —  oh,  a  sweet  and  liquid  name, 
A  name  to  charm  the  ear,  so  full  of  love. 
Melitta !  Sappho  !  —  Go,  bring  her  to  me ! 


SCENE  FOURTH. 

Sappho  alone.    She  seats  herself  on  the  grassy  bench,  and  rests 
her  head  upon  her  hand. 

SAPPHO. 

I  cannot !  — Woe  is  me !     I  call  on  pride 
In  vain  :  love  answers  in  its  stead. 


70  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 


SCENE  FIFTH. 

MELITTA.      SAPPHO. 

Melitta  enters  dressed  simply,  but  with  care ;  roses  in  her  hair 
and  on  her  bosom.  She  pauses  on  the  threshold,  but,  as  Sappho 
does  not  move,  approaches. 

MELITTA. 

Here  am  1 1 
sappho  {turning  quickly  and  starting  back). 

Ah  !  —  by  the  gods  she  's  fair. 

(Covers  her  face  with  her  hands  ^  and  hides  it  on  the 
grass.  — Pause.) 

MELITTA. 

Didst  thou  not  call  ? 

SAPPHO. 

How  she  has  decked  herself  to  please  her  lover, 
False  girl !  But  let  me  curb  my  inward  rage. — 
What  festival  calls  for  such  gay  attire  ? 

MELITTA, 

A  festival  ? 

SAPPHO. 

Wherefore  that  dress,  those  flowers  ? 


MELITTA. 

Thou  often  hast  reproached  me  for  not  wearing 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  71 

The  gifts  thy  hand  so  lavishly  bestowed, 
But  putting  them  too  savingly  away, 
Reserved  for  other  times  and  happy  days. 
I  thought  of  thy  rebuke  a  while  ago, 
And  since  to-day  is  such  a  happy  day 
I  went  into  my  room  and  decked  myself. 

SAPPHO. 

A  happy  day  ?    I  know  not  for  what  reason. 

MELITTA. 

What  reason  ?  —  why,  because  thou  hast  returned; 
Because  —  I  know  not  why,  but  I  am  happy. 

SAPPHO. 

False  girl  I 

MELITTA. 

What  dost  thou  say  ? 

sappho  {controlling  herself). 

Melitta,  come, 
Let  us  talk  quietly  together.  —  Say, 
How  old  art  thou  ? 

MELITTA. 

Thou  knowest  thyself,  O  Sappho, 
What  tragic  fate  disturbed  my  childish  years. 
No  mother  numbered  them  with  fond  exactness, 
Yet,  as  I  think,  I  am  sixteen. 


72 

SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

SAPPHO. 

Thouliest! 

I? 

Speak'st  not 

MELITTA. 
SAPPHO, 

truly. 

MELITTA. 

Always,  honored  lady  1 

SAPPHO. 

The 

>u  numberest 

scarce  fifteen. 

MELITTA. 

It  may  be  so, 

SAPPHO. 

So  young  in  years,  how  should  she  be  already 

So  practised  in  deceit  ?     It  cannot  be 

That  Nature  thus  can  contradict  herself. 

Impossible  !  away  with  such  a  thought !  — 

Melitta,  dost  remember  still  the  day 

They  brought  thee  to  me  thirteen  years  ago  ? 

Thou  hadst  been  carried  off  by  savage  men, 

And  thou  didst  sob  and  cry  in  noisy  grief. 

I  had  compassion  on  the  homeless  child ; 

Her  tears  went  to  my  heart ;  I  paid  the  price  ; 

Scarce  more  than  child  myself,  I  pressed  thee  close 


SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY.  73 

With  ardent  love  unto  my  youthful  breast 
They  tried  to  part  us,  but  thou  held'st  me  fast, 
Thy  lifcle  arms  clinging  about  my  neck, 
Until  the  comfort-bringing  sleep  relaxed  them. 
Tell  me,  dost  thou  remember  still  that  day  ? 

MELITTA. 

Oh,  could  I  ever,  ever,  not  remember  ? 

SAPPHO. 

And  later  when  the  serpent  coils  of  fever, 

Breathing  out  poison,  held  thee  bound,  Melitta, 

Who  was  it  watched  the  long  nights  through  beside  thee, 

Making  her  head  a  pillow  for  thine  own ; 

Wrestled  forgetful  of  herself  with  death 

To  rescue  from  his  clutch  the  much-loved  prey, 

And  rescued  it  with  anguish  and  with  tears  ? 

MELITTA. 

'Twas  thou,  O  Sappho  !  what  do  I  possess, 
That  is  not  due  to  thee  and  to  thy  kindness  ? 

SAPPHO. 

It  is  so,  is  it  not  ?  come  to  my  heart : 
I  knew  thou  couldst  not  grieve  me ;  willingly, 
Thou  wouldst  do  nothing  that  could  grieve  me ;  come, 
Let  heart  beat  against  heart,  let  eye  look  deep 
Within  a  sister's  eyes,  let  words  be  mingled, 
4 


74  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

E'en  as  we  breathe  them,  that  the  ear  deceived, 
The  sympathetic  breast  sweetly  beguiled, 
By  such  harmonious  blending,  in  each  sound 
May  recognize  itself,  though  not  its  word. 

MELITTA. 

0  Sappho ! 

SAPPHO. 

I  deceived  me,  did  I  not  ? 

MELITTA. 

Wherein  ? 

SAPPHO. 

How  couldst  thou  ?  but  thou  canst  not ;  no. 

MELITTA. 

What,  O  my  mistress  ? 

SAPPHO. 

Couldst  thou  then  ?  —  But  go, 
First  lay  aside  this  vanity  of  dress : 

1  cannot  see  thee  thus.     Go ;  other  garments ! 
This  gay  adornment  wounds  my  eye ;  away  I 
Melitta  simple  loved  simplicity  ; 
Coverings  like  those  betoken  something  hid. 
Another  dress,  I  tell  thee  ;  go,  this  moment.  — 
Stay  :  whither  wilt  thou  go  ?  look  in  my  face. 
Wherefore  those  downcast  eyes  ?  are  they  afraid 
To  meet  those  of  thy  mistress  ?  new  thy  shyness  ! 
When  lately  Phaon  —  Ah  thou  blushest,  traitress ! 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  7$ 

Thou  hast  betrayed  thyself;  dost  still  deny? 
I  trust  not  thy  false  tongue,  but  will  believe 
The  testimony  of  thy  cheeks,  the  glow 
Reflected  from  the  guilty  flame  that  burns 
Deep  down  in  thy  false  heart.     Unhappy  girl  1 
Thence  came  thy  strange  demeanor  at  the  banquet, 
What  I  mistook  for  sign  of  maiden  shame 
Was  then  the  trick  of  cunning  courtesan 
Seeking  to  spin  a  web  about  her  victim. 
So  young  and  yet  so  crafty ;  fair  and  blooming, 
With  mould  and  poison  in  thy  wicked  heart ! 
Stand  not  so  silent  there  ;  dost  thou  lack  words  ? 
The  tongue  that  stings  can  it  not  also  hiss  ? 
Speak,  answer  me ! 

MELITTA. 

I  know  not  what  thou  meanest 

SAPPHO. 

Thou  knowest  not  ?  poor  child  !  and  tears  —  weep  not! 

Tears  are  the  holy  privilege  of  grief ; 

Use  words  :  they  long  ago  were  desecrated, 

But  not  the  silent  speech  of  innocence. 

So  gaily  dressed,  decked  out  so  like  a  bride ! 

Off  with  those  flowers :  they  are  of  small  avail 

To  hide  the  serpent  ill  disguised  beneath. 

Take  off  thy  roses ! 

(melitta  takes  off  the  wreath  in  silence!) 


76  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

SAPPHO. 

Give  the  wreath  to  me : 
I  will  preserve  it  in  remembrance  of  thee  ; 
And,  if  the  leaves  shall  wither  soon  and  drop, 
Think  of  thy  truth  and  of  my  happiness. 
Why  dost  thou  spare  the  rose  upon  thy  breast  ? 

Lay  it  aside ! 

(Melitta  steps  back.) 

SAPPHO. 

Is  it  a  pledge  of  love  ? 
Discard  it ! 

melitta  (crossing  her  arms  over  her  breast  and  so  con* 

cealing  the  rose). 
Never ! 

SAPPHO. 

To  resist  is  vain : 
Give  me  the  rose  I 

melitta  (her  hands  firmly  pressed  upon  her  breast). 
Rather  my  life ! 

SAPPHO. 

False  serpent  I 
I  too  can  sting. 

(Drawing  a  dagger!) 
Give  me  the  rose  I 

MELITTA. 

Defend  me, 
Almighty  Gods  1 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  77 

SCENE  SIXTH. 

The  same. 

PHAON. 

Who  calls  ?  —  Melitta,  thou  ? 
(Pause.) 
Put  up  the  dagger.  —  Sappho,  what  is  this  ? 

SAPPHO. 

Ask  of  this  girl. 

PHAON. 

Hast  thou  —  ? 

MELITTA. 

The  fault  is  mine : 
I  spoke  as  is  not  meet  for  slaves  to  speak. 

SAPPHO. 

Charge  not  thyself  with  guilt  that  is  not  thine: 
Thine  own  is  great  enough.     Alas  for  me,  * 

Should  I  e'er  need  thy  magnanimity. 
(In  a  harsh  tone?) 
I  bade  her  give  the  rose  upon  her  breast, 
And  she  refused  obedience. 

PHAON. 

She  refused  ? 
By  all  the  gods,  right  was  she  to  refuse ; 


78  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

For  no  one  shall  deprive  her  of  the  flower. 

I  gave  it  her  myself  in  memory 

Of  a  most  pleasant  hour,  and  as  a  sign 

That  sympathy  for  undeserved  misfortune 

Is  not  extinct  in  every  human  breast ; 

Gave  as  a  drop  of  honey  in  the  cup 

That  others'  arrogance  holds  to  her  lips ; 

As  pledge  of  my  belief  the  highest  charm 

Woman  can  have  lies  in  a  quiet  heart, 

And  that  the  rosy  wreath  of  innocence 

Is  better  than  the  laurel  crown  of  fame. 

She  weeps :  let  me  not  see  thee  weep,  Melitta  ! 

When  thou  didst  huy  her  from  the  dealer's  hand. 

Didst  thou  include  the  value  of  these  tears  ? 

The  body  is  thine  own  ;  come  here  and  kill  it : 

But  not  one  teardrop  shalt  thou  force  from  her.  — 

Thou  lookest  at  me  with  thy  gentle  eyes, 

As  asking  pity  for  the  pitiless. 

Thou  dost  not  know  her,  dost  not  know  her  pride. 

See  !  gleams  there  not  a  dagger  in  her  hand  ? 

Two  more  lie  veiled  beneath  those  lowered  lids. 

{Snatching  tip  the  dagger  which  has  escaped  from  SAPPHO'S 

hand.) 
Give  me  the  dagger :  I  will  wear  it  here, 
On  this  warm  heart  so  cruelly  deceived  ; 
And,  if  a  dream  of  by-gone  days  should  e'er 
Wake  tender  longing  in  my  soul,  one  look 
Upon  this  steel  shall  cure  me  of  my  folly. 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  79 

sappho  (her  eyes  fixed  upon  him). 
Phaon ! 

PHAON. 

Oh,  do  not  heed  her  dulcet  tones : 
They  would  but  lure  thee  on  to  meet  her  dagger. 
Their  charm  for  me  is  over:  long  ago 
Ere  I  beheld  her,  from  afar  she  threw 
The  spell  of  song  bewilderingly  about  me, 
Drawing  me  to  herself  with  threads  of  gold ; 
And,  struggle  as  I  would,  yet  close  and  closer 
The  magic  circle  wrapped  me  round.     I  saw  her, 
And  madness  took  possession  of  my  senses ; 
Captive  I  threw  myself  at  her  proud  feet. 
The  sight  of  thee  first  brought  me  to  myself. 
Trembling  I  saw  myself  in  Circe's  house, 
Felt  myself  parting  with  my  human  shape. 
Yet  still  I  was  not  freed,  till  she  herself 
By  her  own  hand  released  me  from  the  spell. 

sappho  (tier  eyes  still  fixed  upon  him). 
Phaon ! 

PHAON. 

Oh,  hear  her  not,  and  look  not  towards  her: 
Her  eye  can  kill  as  surely  as  her  hand. 

MELITTA. 

She  weeps ! 

PHAON. 

Away :  with  tears  she  weaves  new  spells. 


8o  SAPPHO:    A  TRAGEDY. 

MELITTA. 

My  own  dear  mistress,  can  I  see  her  suffer  ? 

PHAON. 

The  sight  moves  me  no  less :  come,  come  away, 
Ere  she  can  cast  her  net  anew  about  thee. 
(  Would  lead  her  away.) 

MELITTA, 

I  cannot  —  Sappho ! 

sappho  (with  broken  voice). 

Call'st  thou  me,  Melitta? 

melitta  {turning  and  embracing  her  knees). 

Sappho,  'tis  I ; — here,  take  the  rose ;  I  give  it ; 
And  with  it  take  my  life  !  — where  is  thy  dagger? 

phaon  (snatching  away  the  rose,  which  both  hold,  and 
raising  melitta). 

Thine,  thine  it  is :  no  god  shall  take  it  from  thee. 
Away ;  come,  hasten  from  her  presence. 
(He  leads  her  away.) 

Sappho  (with  outstretched  arms). 

Phaon ! 

The  curtain  falls. 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  8l 

ACT  FOURTH. 
Landscape  as  before.    Moonlight. 

SCENE  FIRST. 

Sappho  {appears  lost  in  thought;  after  a  pause). 

Do  I  still  live  ?  does  any  thing  still  live  ? 

Did  this  broad  universe  not  crash  together 

In  that  terrific  moment  ?     Is  this  dark 

That  o'er  me  broods  the  darkness  but  of  night, 

Not  of  the  grave  ?  —  They  say  great  grief  can  kill :— ? 

Alas !  it  is  not  so.  —  All  still  about  me : 

The  air  is  hushed,  the  cheerful  tones  of  life 

Have  died  away,  no  whisper  more  is  heard 

From  the  unstirring  leaves,  and  solitary, 

Like  a  belated  stranger,  goes  my  wail 

Into  the  night. — Oh  if  one  could  but  sleep 

As  sleep  the  little  birds,  but  longer  —  longer — 

Without  awakening ;  folded  in  a  sleep 

Profounder,  sweeter,  dreamless,  where  all  —  all  — » 

Even  the  pulses  sleep,  nor  morning  ray 

Wakes  to  fresh  torture ;  where  ingratitude  — r 

But  hold  —  let  me  not  tread  upon  the  serpent. 

(In  a  half-whisper.) 
Murder  is  verily  a  heinous  crime, 
Deceit  and  robbery  and  all  the  rest, 


82  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

Heads  of  that  poisonous  hydra,  that  begotten 

Beside  the  flaming  pool  infests  the  world 

With  its  pestiferous  breath,  crimes  heinous,  shameful  I 

Yet  one  I  know  whose  blackness  is  so  deep 

The  others  all  seem  lily  white  beside  it ; 

Ingratitude  its  name  !  that  one  alone 

Performs  the  united  work  of  all  the  rest : 

It  lies,  it  steals,  deceives,  and  swears  false  oaths: 

It  can  betray  and  kill  —  ingratitude  ! 

Save  me,  ye  Gods,  oh,  save  me  from  myself ! 
All  the  dark  spirits  in  me  rouse  from  sleep, 
And  rattle  at  their  prison  bars  of  iron. 
This  one  I  had  besought  of  fate,  this  one 
Among  all  mortals ;  him  I  would  have  placed 
Upon  the  summit  of  humanity, 
Raised  above  all  that  are  ;  I  would  have  borne  him 
Beyond  the  grave,  mortality,  and  death, 
Upon  the  wings  of  fame,  over  and  onward 
To  the  far  brightness  of  the  coming  time  j 
All  that  I  can  and  am,  I  would  have  bound 
Into  a  wreath  to  twine  about  his  brow, 
Asking  for  no  return  but  a  kind  word. 
And  he  —  do  ye  still  live,  ye  righteous  Gods? 

(As  if  seized  by  a  sudden  thought?) 
Ay,  ye  do  live,  —  for  ye  inspire  the  thought 
That  flashes  on  my  soul.     Oh,  let  me  grasp  thee, 
Swift  messenger,  and  catch  thy  fleeting  word  !  — 
To  Chios,  sayest  thou,  shall  the  maid  be  sent ; 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  83 

To  Chios,  and  there  parted  from  the  traitor, 
Turn  her  misguided  heart  to  penitence, 
And  with  love's  torment  for  love's  crime  atone  ?— 
So  be  it !  Rhamnes,  Rhamnes  !  ay,  so  be  it ! 
Thanks,  ye  Immortals,  for  the  sign  ye  give : 
I  haste  to  follow  it. 


SCENE  SECOND. 

RHAMNES.      SAPPHO. 

RHAMNES. 

Thy  pleasure,  lady ! 

SAPPHO. 

She  is  my  work :  what  were  she  without  me  ? 
And  who  denies  the  potter  has  the  right 
The  thing  he  has  created  to  destroy  ? 
Destroy  ?  —  but  can  I  ?  —  woe  is  me,  her  bliss 
Is  safe  beyond  the  reach  of  my  weak  hand. 
For,  if  his  love  should  follow  her  to  Chios, 
Were  she  not  happier  at  a  slave's  poor  hearth 
Than  I  within  my  golden,  loveless  palace  ? 
'Tis  sweet  to  suffer  for  the  one  we  love ; 
For  hope  and  memory  are  roses  blooming 
On  the  same  tree  that  bears  for  us  the  Now  — 
Roses  without  their  thorns.  —  Oh,  banish  me 


84  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

Into  the  unknown  vastness  of  the  ocean, 

Upon  some  rock  that,  barren  and  abrupt, 

Knows  for  all  neighbors  but  the  waves  and  clouds, 

Rent  savagely  from  every  path  of  life,  — 

Only  erase  from  memory's  book  in  mercy 

The  hour  that  has  gone  by.     Let  me  believe 

But  in  his  love,  and  I  will  prize  my  lot ; 

Content  will  dwell  in  solitude,  not  lonely  j 

Because  at  every  thorn  that  wounds  my  foot, 

At  every  pang  that  tortures,  I  could  say, 

Did  he  but  know  !  or,  He  is  thinking  of  me, 

What  would  he  give  to  save  me  !  —  and  that  thought 

Would  be  a  cooling  balm  for  every  wound, 

RHAMNES, 

Did  I  not  hear  thee  call  me,  honored  lady  ? 

SAPPHO. 

0  Phaon,  Phaon,  what  have  I  e'er  done  thee?— 
Serene  upon  the  fields  of  poesy, 

With  golden  lyre,  companionless  I  stood ; 
My  eyes  looked  down  upon  the  joys  of  earth, 
And  earthly  sorrows  reached  not  up  to  me. 
There  not  by  moments,  but  by  fairest  flowers, 
Woven  into  the  cheerful  wreath  of  song, 

1  marked  the  flight  of  never-resting  time. 
What  to  my  song  I  gave,  it  gave  me  back, 
And  everlasting  youth  was  on  my  brow. 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  85 

Then  came  a  cruel  hand,  and  ruthlessly 
My  golden  veil  was  cast  upon  the  ground, 
And  I  dragged  down  into  this  desert  waste, 
Where  all  around  no  footfall  is  nor  path. 
And  now  he  —  he  that  was  the  only  object 
To  smile  upon  me  in  this  wilderness 
Has  turned  away  and  left  me  desolate. 

RHAMNES. 

Lady !  why  wilt  thou  linger  in  the  darkness, 

The  night's  damp  breath  and  ocean's  mists  upon  thee  ? 

SAPPHO. 

Ingratitude  —  knowest  thou  a  crime  more  black  ? 


I  know  of  none. 


No,  none* 


RHAMNES. 
SAPPHO. 

Or  one  more  venomous  ? 

RHAMNES. 


SAPPHO. 

More  worthy  to  be  cursed  and  punished? 


RHAMNES. 

Indeed,  'tis  justly  burdened  with  all  curses. 

SAPPHO. 

Ay,  is  it  not  ?  for  all  the  other  crimes.    . 


86  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

They  are  hyenas,  lions,  tigers,  wolves ; 
.Ingratitude 's  the  serpent,  is  it  not  ? 
So  fair,  so  smooth,  so  bright,  so  poisonous  I — Ah  I  — 

RHAMNES. 

Come  in  with  me  :  thou  wilt  be  better  there  ; 
For  all  the  house  is  festively  adorned, 
And  Phaon  waits  for  thee  within  the  hall. 

SAPPHO. 

What !  —  Phaon  waits  for  me  ? 

RHAMNES. 

Yes,  noble  mistress. 
I  saw  him  walking  thoughtful  up  and  down, 
Now  standing  still,  now  speaking  to  himself, 
Then  from  the  window  questioning  the  night 

SAPPHO. 

He  waits  for  me  ?  good  Rhamnes,  said  he  so  ? 
For  me,  — for  Sappho  ? 

RHAMNES. 

Nay,  he  said  it  not ; 
But  I  beheld  him  waiting,  there  and  watching, 
And  whom  should  he  be  waiting  for  ? 

SAPPHO. 

For  whom?  — 
'Tis  not  for  Sappho ;  but  he  waits  in  vain.  — 
Rhamnes  ! 


SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY.  87 

RHAMNES. 

My  mistress ! 

SAPPHO. 

As  thou  knowest,  at  Chios 
Dwells  one  who  was  my  father's  friend  and  mine. 

RHAMNES. 

I  know. 

SAPPHO. 

Loose  quickly  from  the  shore  the  boat 
The  waves  are  rocking  yonder  in  the  bay . 
This  very  night  thou  must  away  to  Chios. 

RHAMNES. 

Alone  ? 

SAPPHO. 

No. 

(Pause). 

RHAMNES. 

Who  is  my  companion  thither? 

SAPPHO. 

What  sayest  thou  ? 

RHAMNES. 

Who  will  go  with  me  ? 

SAPPHO  (leading  him  to  the  other  side  of  the  stage). 

Come  hither;— 
Be  cautious  and  be  silent,  dost  thou  hear  ? 


88  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

Go  to  Melitta's  chamber,  and  command  her 
To  come  to  me ;  tell  her  that  Sappho  calls. 
But  secretly,  that  he  observe  not. 

RHAMNES. 

Who? 

SAPPHO. 

Who  ?  —  Phaon.  —  If  she  follow  — 
(Pausing.) 

RHAMNES. 

And  what  then? 

SAPPHO. 

Then  bring  her  by  persuasion  or  by  force, 
But  noiselessly,  into  the  unmoored  boat, 
And  with  all  speed  make  instantly  for  Chios. 

RHAMNES. 

And  there  ? 

SAPPHO. 

There  give  her  to  the  friend  thou  knowest. 
He  is  to  keep  her  till  I  call  her  back, 
And  strictly — nay,  not  strictly  need  he  keep  her; 
She  will  have  been  chastised  enough.     Dost  hear  ? 

RHAMNES. 

I  hasten. 

SAPPHO. 

Linger  not. 

RHAMNES. 

Farewell,  O  Sappho  t 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  89 

To-morrow's  sun  shall  find  us  far  from  here. 
Thou  shalt  be  well  contented  with  thy  servant 


SCENE  THIRD. 

sappho  {alone). 

He 's  gone.  —  But — no !  —  Alas,  how  burdensome 
Is  habit  binding  us  to  what  we  hate  ! 

{Absorbed  in  thought?) 
Hark  —  steps  !  —  nay,  'twas  the  wind.  —  How  anxiously 
My  heart  is  throbbing  in  my  storm-tossed  breast !  — 
Now  voices- — yes,  she  comes — and  willingly, 
Suspecting  not  that  she  has  looked  her  last  — 
Away,  I  will  not  see  her- — cannot  see  her  1 
{Hastens  out.) 


SCENE  FOURTH. 

MELITTA.       RHAMNES. 
MELITTA. 

Was  this  the  place  where  I  should  find  the  mistress? 
She  is  not  here. 

rhamnes  {looking  about  in  embarrassment). 

Not  here  ?  no,  verily. 
She  can  but  just  have  gone :  we  will  seek  further. 


90  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 


MELITTA. 

But  where? 

RHAMNES. 

She  may  have  wandered  on,  perhaps. 
Nearer  the  shore  ;  perhaps  is  in  yon  cove, 

MELITTA, 

Thither  she  never  goes. 

RHAMNES. 

Perhaps  to-day. 

MELITTA. 

Wherefore  to-day  ? 

RHAMNES. 

Wherefore  ?  —  Because —  I  know  not  — 
Because  —  (aside)  why  chose  she  me    for    this    com- 
mission ? 
I  cannot  look  at  her ;  —  what  can  I  say  ? 

MELITTA. 

How  strange  thy  manner  is !    Thou  turn'st  away ; 

Thine  eyes  refusing  to  give  confirmation 

Of  what  thy  lips  have  spoken.     Say,  what  ails  thee  ? 

Why  art  thou  so  disquieted  and  anxious, 

Tell  me  where  Sappho  is  that  I  may  join  her, 

And  if  thou  know'st  not,  let  me  go. 

RHAMNES. 

Nay,  stop :. 
Thou  must  not  go. 


Whither? 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  91 

MELITTA. 

Why  not? 

RHAMNES. 

Thou  must  with  me. 

MELITTA. 
RHAMNES. 


To — only  come  to  yonder  bay, 
And  thou  shalt  know. 

MELITTA. 

Ye  Gods  !  what  canst  thou  mean  ? 

RHAMNES. 

Come,  maiden,  come  :  midnight  will  soon  be  past ; 
Time  presses ;  come ! 

MELITTA.  \ 

What  wilt  thou  do  with  me  ? 
Must  I  go  hence  —  hence  to  some  distant  land  ? 

RHAMNES. 

Be  tranquil,  child !  —  Unto  what  distant  land ; 
What  art  thou  thinking  ?     Is  then  Chios  far  ? 

MELITTA. 

To  Chios?    Never,  never! 


92  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 


RHAMNES. 

Child,  thou  must : 
The  mistress  wills  it  so. 

MELITTA. 

Tis  Sappho  wills  it  ? 
Take  me  to  her. 

RHAMNES. 

Nay. 

MELITTA. 

Take  me  to  her  feet, 
That  she  may  hear  and  judge  me  1 

RHAMNES. 

Not  one  step. 

MELITTA. 

Wherefore  so  hard  ? 

RHAMNES. 

I  cannot  otherwise. 
I  was  commanded,  and  I  must  obey. 

MELITTA. 

Yield  to  my  prayers  I 

RHAMNES. 

They  can  avail  thee  nought; 
Though  tears  are  in  my  eyes,  it  must  be  done. 
Come,  child,  away  I 

MELITTA.  ' 

Behold  me  on  my  knees  I 
Oh  be  entreated !  —  Is  there  none  to  hear  me, 
No  one  to  save  ? 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  93 

RHAMNES. 

In  vain :  thou  'It  wake  the  house. 
Cornel 

MELITTA. 

Never  I  has  then  none  compassion  on  me  ? 


SCENE  FIFTH. 
Phaon.    The  same. 

PHAON. 

That  is  Melitta's  voice !  —  How  dar*st  thou,  wretch, 
Lay  hand  upon  her  ? 

(rhamnes  releases  melitta.) 
I  foreboded  right 
When  wolf-like,  reconnoitring  with  thine  eyes, 
I  saw  thee  creeping  up  to  where  she  was. 
But  thou  hast  reckoned  false,  thou  cruel  wolf : 
The  shepherd  watches,  and  thine  hour  is  near. 

RHAMNES. 

I  do  but  carry  out  the  mistress'  orders. 

PHAON. 

How,  Sappho's  orders  ?  this  was  her  command  ? 
O  Sappho,  Sappho,  that  was  like  thyself ! 


94  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

I  know  thee  now,  alas,  too  late  1  —  Too  late  ? 
There  yet  is  time  to  shake  the  fetters  off 
From  her  and  me  ;  and  by  the  gods  I  will ! 
Thou  all  too  ready  tool  of  other's  malice, 
Confess,  —  Melitta,  thou  art  pale,  thou  tremblest 

MELITTA. 

Nay,  all  is  well  with  me, 

PHAON, 

Slave,  thank  the  gods 
That  not  a  stone  so  much  as  scratched  her  foot 
By  heaven,  thou  shouldst  have  paid  for  every  tear 
With  sighs  of  mortal  anguish.  —  Thou  art  weary: 
Lean  upon  me  ;  no  rest  canst  thou  find  surer. 
Look,  madman,  look  upon  this  gracious  being, 
The  image  of  the  gods,  thou  wouldst  have  harmed. 

RHAMNES. 

Not  harmed. 

PHAON. 

What  then  ? 

RHAMNES. 

I  would  —  but  pardon  me, 
I  cannot  what  I  would,  so  let  me  go. 

phaon  (leaving  melitta). 
By  all  the  gods,  thou  stayest  till  I  know 
The  measure  of  thy  wickedness.     Speak  out : 
What  wert  thou  to  have  done  ? 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  9$ 


RHAMNES. 

Bear  her  away. 

PHAON. 

And  whither  ? 

RHAMNES. 

To — that  is  my  mistress9  secret 

PHAON. 

Thou  wilt  not  speak  ? 

RHAMNES. 

She  trusted  it  to  me, 
And  safe  it  lies  within  her  servant's  breast 

PHAON. 

This  steel  shall  let  it  out.     I  thank  thee,  Sappho, 
That  thou  hast  given  me  arms  against  thyself. 

(Drawing  the  dagger.) 
Hide  nothing  from  me ;  for  thou  seest  me  ready 
To  force  thy  secret  from  its  prison-house. 

MELITTA. 

Oh,  spare  him  !  I  was  to  be  sent  to  Chios. 

PHAON. 

To  Chios? 

MELITTA. 

Yes :  a  friend  of  Sappho's  dwells  there, 
Into  whose  care  Melitta  should  be  given. 


96  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 


PHAON. 

Across  the  sea  ? 

MELITTA. 

A  boat  in  yonder  bay — 

PHAON, 

A  boat  ? 

MELITTA. 

So  said  he ;  is  it  not  so,  father? 

RHAMNES. 

Call  me  not  father,  thou  ungrateful  girl, 

Who  thus  betray'st  the  counsels  of  our  mistress. 

PHAON. 

A  boat? 

MELITTA  (to  RHAMNES). 

What  have  I  done  that 's  worthy  to  be  blamed  ? 
Didst  thou  not  hear  him  ask  ? 

PHAON. 

A  boat?  so  be  it: 
I  take  it  as  a  sign  from  you,  kind  Gods ; 
Too  late  I  understand  your  admonitions  j 
Tis  she,  or  none  upon  this  earth,  whose  bosom 
Answers  to  the  deep  passion  stirred  in  mine. 
Ye  point  me  out  the  way  I  am  to  tread.  — 
Melitta,  yes,  thou  shalt  away  to  Chios : 
But  not  alone ;  thou  goest  with  me  beside  thee. 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  97 


MELITTA. 

With  him? 

PHAON. 

Come,  quit  this  rude  and  hostile  land, 
Where  hate  and  envy  and  the  Gorgon  head 
Of  vengeance  intercept  thy  path,  where  snares 
Are  laid  for  thee  by  one  who  seeks  thy  life. 
Come :  there  the  boat ;  here  courage,  will,  and  strength 
To  guard  thee,  if  it  were  against  a  world, 
(  Would  lead  her  away.) 

melitta  (terrified,  to  rhamnes). 
Rhamnes ! 

RHAMNES, 

Bethink  thyself ! 

PHAON. 

Do  thou  bethink  thee 
Of  thy  design,  and  that  thou  'it  in  my  power. 

RHAMNES, 

But  she  is  Sappho's. 

PHAON. 

Liar,  she  is  mine ! 

{TO  MELITTA.) 

Come,  follow  me, 

RHAMNES. 

The  dwellers  on  this  island 
Pay  Sappho  all  the  reverence  due  a  queen, 
5  G 


98  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

And  at  the  first  alarm  are  ever  ready 

In  arms  to  guard  the  threshold  of  her  door. 

A  word  from  me,  and  hundreds  will  rise  up  — - 

PHAON. 

The  warning  comes  in  time :  I  had  forgotten 
With  whom  I  am  and  where.     Thou  goest  with  us. 

RHAMNES. 

I  with  you  ? 

PHAON. 

Yes,  but  only  to  the  shore. 
Are  we  in  safety,  then  thou  may'st  return, 
Tell  what  has  happened,  and  —  enough,  thou  goest 

RHAMNES. 

Nay,  never. 

PHAON. 

I  have  that  will  force  obedience. 

rhamnes  {retreating  towards  the  house). 
Ah,  violence  I 

phaon  (barring  the  way  and  drawing  his  dagger). 

Die,  since  thou  so  hast  willed  it : 
A  madman's  death  is  but  a  trifling  price 
For  this  pure  maid's  deliverance. 

MELITTA. 

Kill  him  not  I 

PHAON. 

Let  him  obey  1 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  99 

rhamnes  (who  has  retreated  to  the  opposite  side). 

Alas,  alas  for  age  1 
When  will  and  power  no  longer  work  as  one. 

phaon.  * 
Come,  maiden  1 

MELITTA. 

Whither? 

PHAON. 

To  the  boat 
melitta  (hastening from  him  to  the  front). 

Great  Gods, 
Direct  me  1 

PHAON. 

Come  :  the  distance  stretches  forth 
Protecting  arms  to  meet  us.    There  is  safety 
And  rest  and  love  beyond  the  cold,  gray  sea. 
Oh,  come,  beloved !  the  linden's  spreading  dome 
That  peaceful  shades  my  parents'  peaceful  home 
Shall  be  the  temple  of  our  happiness. 

(Putting  his  arm  about  her.) 
Why  dost  thou  tremble  ?  tremble  not,  dear  maid  : 
Thy  lover's  arm  holds  thee  in  safe  embrace. 
Come,  if  thou  follow  not,  then,  by  the  gods, 
These  hands  shall  bear  thee  hence,  and  on  and  on, 
To  the  world's  end. 

MELITTA. 

O  Phaon ! 


IOO  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 


PHAON. 

Come,  away ! 
Propitious  gleam  the  stars,  the  ocean  calls, 
Fair  breezes  blow ;  love  Amphitrite  favors. 

(To  RHAMNES.) 

Go  thou  before ;  —  go,  if  thou  love  thy  life. 


SCENE  SIXTH. 
After  a  pause,  Eucharis  appears  upon  the  steps. 

EUCHARIS. 

Rhamnes  1 

(Descending!) 

Is  no  one  here  ?  —  I  was  deceived  j 

Methought  I  heard  his  voice  :  but  o'er  this  house 

An  evil  spirit  of  confusion  reigns 

Since  Sappho  has  returned ;  alarmed  and  anxious 

Each  shuns  the  other,  and  on  every  face 

Suspicion  sits  and  care.     I  sought  Melitta, 

And  found  her  couch  was  empty.  .  Solitary 

Strays  Sappho  through  the  night ;  here  Rhamnes*  voice 

But  not  himself.  —  Would  it  were  morning !  —  hark  I 

rhamnes  (at  a  distance). 
Help,  help ! 

EUCHARIS. 

Who  calls  ? 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  IOI 

rhamnes  (nearer). 
Here! 

EUCHARIS. 

Rhamnes  ? 

h 

rhamnes  (close  at  hand). 

Slaves  of  Sappho ! 

EUCHARIS. 

He  comes  all  breathless.    Rhamnes,  what  has  passed  ? 


SCENE  SEVENTH. 
Rhamnes  entering  hastily.    Eucharis. 

RHAMNES. 

Up  from  your  slumber !  up,  and  hasten  hither  1 
Pursue  the  fugitives !  help,  help  ! 

EUCHARIS. 

What  is  it? 

RHAMNES. 

Ask  not,  but  call  up  Sappho  and  the  servants. 

EUCHARIS. 

What  cause  ? 

RHAMNES. 

This  is  no  time  for  words ;  go,  go  ; 
Let  all  the  house  be  wakened  ;  quick,  call  help ! 


102  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 


EUCHARIS. 

What  can  it  mean  ? 

(Ascends  the  steps.) 

RHAMNES. 

I  can  no  more.  —  O  traitor. 
Exult  not  yet :  the  good  gods  of  the  sea 
Will  take  revenge  upon  so  base  a  deed. 

(Servants  come  one  after  another?) 
Haste  down  into  the  valley  ;  wake  the  people ; 
Let  an  alarm,  a  call  for  hefp  be  sounded : 
Ask  not ;  away,  away ;  sound  the  alarm  ! 


SCENE  EIGHTH. 

SAPPHO.      RHAMNES.      EUCHARIS. 

SAPPHO. 

What  voice  of  terror  through  the  quiet  night 
Usurps  the  office  of  sleep-killing  care  ? 
Has  any  cause  for  wailing  here  but  I  ? 


I,  O  my  mistress  I 
And  where  is  she  ? 


RHAMNES. 
SAPPHO. 

Thou  here,  Rhamnes,  thou  ? 

RHAMNES. 

Melitta  ? 


SAPPHO [i    A   TRAGEDY.  103 


SAPPHO. 

Surely! 

RHAMNES. 

Gone. 

SAPPHO. 

She  gone,  and  thou  still  here  ? 

RHAMNES. 

Escaped  with — 

SAPPHO. 

Hold! 

RHAMNES. 


Escaped  with  Phaon. 


SAPPHO. 

No! 


RHAMNES. 

It  is  too  true. 
He  overpowered  my  feeble  age,  and  now 
In  the  same  boat  that  was  prepared  for  me 
Is  fleeing  with  his  booty  through  the  waves. 

SAPPHO. 

Thou  liest ! 

RHAMNES. 

Oh,  would  that  this  one  time  I  did! 

SAPPHO. 

Where  was  your  thunder,  ye  eternal  Gods  ? 
Have  ye  no  tortures  save  for  Sappho's  heart  ? 


104  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

Is  deaf  the  ear  of  vengeance,  lame  its  arm  ? 
Send  your  avenging  lightnings  down,  ye  Gods, 
Oh,  send  them  down  upon  the  traitors1  head, 
And  blast  them,  even  as  ye  have  blasted  me !  *— 
In  vain :  no  bolt  speeds  through  the  quiet  air  j 
The  wanton  winds  still  whisper  in  the  grove  j 
And  ever  farther  from  the  shore  the  sea 
Bears  on  its  ample  breast  the  boat  of  love. 
No  help  is  there  :  Sappho,  help  thou  thyself  1 

{The  stage  has  been  gradually  filling  with  country  people 
and  slaves  bearing  torches?) 

Lo,  these  about  me  !  —  Thanks,  thanks  to  you  all ; 
May  mortals  give  me  what  the  gods  refuse. 
Up,  faithful  friends,  up  and  avenge  your  Sappho ! 
If  ye  have  ever  loved  me,  show  it  now. 

{Going about  among  them.) 
Thou,  Myron,  oft  hast  sworn  to  me ;  and  thou, 
Terpander ;  is  thy  song  forgotten,  Lychas  ? 
Xenarchos,  —  Pheres,  thou,  —  all,  all  my  friends  j 
Haste  downward  to  the  beach,  and  man  the  boats, 
And  like  the  wind  pursue  the  fugitives. 
Remember  thpt  I  here  in  torment  wait, 
And  every  moment  until  your  return 
Pierces  my  bosom  with  a  thousand  darts. 
Whoe'er  will  bring  them,  let  me  have  the  joy 
Of  looking  deep  into  his  eyes  and  asking  : 
What  have  I  done  to  thee  that  thou  shouldst  slay  me  ? 
{Bursting  into  tears.) 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  <  105 

1 
But  no ; — no  tears ;  nothing  but  rage  and  vengeance.  — 
Whoe'er  will  bring  them  to  me,  he  shall  have 
My  gold,  my  life,  —  Away,  fly  like  the  wind ! 

A  PEASANT. 

We  come  not  back  without  him. 

SAPPHO. 

Take  my  thanks : 
(To  the  men  as  they  go.) 
It  is  my  life  I  give  into  your  keeping. 
Let  my  desire  give  wings  unto  your  feet, 
And  let  my  vengeance  strengthen  every  arm ; 
But  speed  you,  speed,  I  pray  you  by  the  gods ! 
{Her  hands  crossed  upon  her  breast?) 

They  go :  —  'tis  well  with  me  ;  now  I  will  rest 

■• 

EUCHARIS. 

Thou  tremblest. 

RHAMNES. 

Thou  wilt  fall.  —  O  Sappho ! 


eucharis  {supporting  her  in  her  arms). 

sappho  (in  eucharis'  arms). 
Oh,  let  me  fall :  why  do  ye  seek  to  hold  me  ? 

The  curtain  falls. 


Gods! 


106  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

ACT  FIFTH. 
Landscape  as  in  the  preceding  acts.    Morning  breaks. 

SCENE  FIRST. 

Sappho  sits  half  reclining  on  the  grassy  seat  gazing  fixedly 
before  her.  At  a  little  distance  stands  Eucharis,  farther  back 
several  female  attendants.  —  Rhamnes  enters. 

eucharis  (her  finger  upon  her  lips). 
Still,  still! 

RHAMNES. 

Is  she  asleep  ? 

EUCHARIS, 

Her  eyes  are  open : 
The  body  wakes ;  the  spirit  seems  to  slumber. 
Three  hours  immovable  she  thus  has  lain. 

RHAMNES. 

Ye  had  done  well  to  lead  her  to  her  room. 

EUCHARIS. 

I  tried,  but  she  would  not.  —  Still  nothing  ? 

RHAMNES. 

Nothing. 
Far  as  the  eye  can  reach  but  sea  and  clouds : 
No  trace  of  any  boat. 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  107 

Sappho  (starting  up). 
A  boat ;  where  ? 


RHAMNES. 

Have  we  yet  seen,  dear  mistress. 


Nothing 


Sappho  {sinking  back). 

Nothing — nothing  I 

RHAMNES. 

The  morning  air  is  chill :  come  to  the  house. 

(sappho  by  a  motion  of  the  head  refuses.) 

RHAMNES. 

Oh,  be  entreated !  let  me  lead  thee  in. 

(sappho  again  makes  a  sign  0/ refusal.) 

rhamnes  {drawing  back). 
Wilt  thou  not  come  ?  —  It  breaks  my  heart  to  see  her. 

eucharis. 
Look  there :  why  crowd  the  people  thus  together  ? 
All  hurry  towards  the  shore ;  methinks  they  come. 

sappho  {springing  up). 
Ah! 
(She  stands  with  body  thrown  backward^  anxiously  lis- 
tening.) 

EUCHARIS. 

Go  to  yonder  rock  and  look  abroad : 
Perchance  thou  wilt  descry  them. 


108  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

RHAMNES. 

I  will  look. 
(Ascends  a  rocky  headland.) 

EUCHARIS. 

Quick,  quick !  say,  is  there  nothing  ? 

RHAMNES. 

Thank  the  gods, 
They  come. 

SAPPHO. 

Ah! 

RHAMNES. 

Yonder  woody  promontory 
That  stretches  on  the  left  into  the  sea 
Hid  from  my  eyes  till  now  the  welcome  sight. 
A  tangled  maze  of  boats  rows  towards  the  shore 
With  rapid  strokes. 

EUCHARIS. 

The  fugitives  among  them  ? 

RHAMNES. 

The  sun  is  dazzling :  I  distinguish  nothing.  — 
But,  hold,  a  boat  already  nears  the  shore, 
Sent  in  advance  to  bring  the  joyous  news. 
Now  some  one  lands,  —  the  shepherd  from  the  valley. 
He  waves  his  staff.     They  surely  must  be  taken.  — 
This  way,  good  friend,  this  way !  —  he  is  approaching. 
{Descending.) 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  109 

EUCHARIS. 

Be  calm,  my  gracious  mistress,  be  composed. 


SCENE  SECOND. 
The  same.    A  countryman. 


COUNTRYMAN. 

Hail,  Sappho  1 

EUCHARIS. 

Is  he  taken  ? 

COUNTRYMAN. 

Yes. 

RHAMNES. 

Where? 

EUCHARIS. 

COUNTRYMAN. 

How? 


They  had  an  ample  start,  and  he  rows  well : 
It  seemed  as  we  should  never  overtake  them, 
When  lo,  at  last,  already  in  mid-sea, 
We  spied  their  boat,  and  at  full  speed  pursued. 
It  soon  was  overtaken  and  surrounded. 


IIO  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

We  bade  him  turn  about,  but  he  would  not. 
With  his  left  hand  he  grasped  the  maid,  his  right 
Brandished  a  naked  dagger.  —  Wilt  thou  aught, 
Most  noble  lady? 

(sappho  makes  him  a  sign  to  proceed?) 
Well,  he  brandished  thus 
His  dagger  threateningly,  until  an  oar 
We  aimed  at  him  struck  on  the  head  the  maid. 
She  fell ;  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms ;  while  we, 
Seizing  the  moment,  sprang  into  the  boat, 
Secured  him,  and  so  brought  them  back  to  shore. 
They  even  now  are  landing ;  see  the  two.    • 
The  little  maid  still  totters  in  her  walk. 

SAPPHO. 

Not  hither ! 

RHAMNES. 

Whither  else  ?    They  're  close  at  hand. 

SAPPHO. 

Ah,  who  will  save  me  from  the  sight  of  him  ? 
Come,  maidens !  —  Aphrodite,  guard  thy  servant  I 

{She  hastens  to  the  back  of  the  stage  and  embraces  the  a/tar, 
her  female  attendants  surrounding  her?) 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  Ill 


SCENE  THIRD. 

Phaon  leading  Melitta.    Country  people.    In  the  background 
Sappho  with  her  maidens. 

PHAON. 

Let  no  one  dare  to  lay  a  finger  on  her ; 

For  I  am  not  defenceless,  though  disarmed* 

This  hand  shall  be  a  rod  for  her  protection. 

And~eveiy  limb  of  mine  become  a  weapon. 

Keep  by  my  side,  Melitta ;  tremble  not : 

No  harm  shall  come  to  thee  while  Phaon  lives.  — 

How  could  ye  strike  her  innocent  pure  head, 

And  call  you  men  ?     Methought  a  woman  only, 

An  angry  woman,  weak  and  cowardly, 

Could  be  so  cruel.     It  was  thou  who  struck  her ; 

I  know  thee  :  off!  lest  I  anticipate 

The  avenging  gods  and  rob  them  of  their  prey.  — 

How  is  it  with  thee  ? 

MELITTA. 

Well. 

PHAON. 

Thy  look  belies  thee; 
Thy  trembling  and  thy  pallid  cheek  betray 
The  only  falsehood  that  thy  lips  e'er  uttered. 
In  vain  thou  seekest  to  repress  my  fury : 


112  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

Thou  dost  but  fan  it  to  intenser  flame. 
Seat  thyself  here  upon  this  grassy  bank, 
Where  first  thy  gentle  eyes,  clear  as  the  heavens, 
Shone  forth  upon  me  like  the  golden  dawn, 
Loosening  the  fetters  of  the  slumber  dark 
In  which  the  enchantress'  song  had  bound  me ;  here 
Where  love  began  her  gracious  work,  e'en  here 
Shall  love  complete  it. — Tell  me,  where  is  Sappho? 

MELITTA. 

0  Phaon,  call  her  not. 

PHAON. 

Fear  nought,  Melitta : 
Am  I  not  free  ?  what  right  has  she  to  hold  me  ? 
Proud  Sappho  yet  shall  learn  and  to  her  terror, 
That  there  is  justice  still  in  Greece.    To  her, 
To  Sappho!  — 

A   COUNTRYMAN. 

Stay ! 

PHAON. 
« 

t  Who  holds  me  ? 

COUNTRYMAN. 

All  of  us. 

PHAON. 

1  am  a  freeman. 

COUNTRYMAN. 

Free  thou  wast,  but  now 
Subject  unto  the  penalty  of  law. 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  113 

PHAON. 

What  penalty,  for  what  ? 

COUNTRYMAN. 

Rape  of  a  slave  v/ 

Calls  down  the  vengeance  of  the  law  upon  thee. 

PHAON. 

Let  Sappho  name  her  ransom  :  I  will  pay  it, 
Should  it  require  the  riches  of  a  Croesus. 

COUNTRYMAN. 

'Tis  Sappho's  to  demand,  not  thine  to  offer. 

PHAON. 

Are  ye  so  tame  that  ye  will  lend  your  hands 
To  gratify  an  angry  woman's  vengeance, 
And  make  you  passive  tools  of  love's  caprice  ? 
Rather  aid  me,  for  I  am  suffering  wrong. 

COUNTRYMAN. 

If  right  or  wrong,  'tis  Sappho  must  decide. 

PHAON. 

Dost  thou  not  blush  to  speak  such  words,  old  man  ? 
Who  then  is  Sappho,  that  thou  heed'st  her  voice 
As  held  she  in  her  hand  the  scales  of  justice  ? 
Is  she  the  sovereign  of  this  land  ? 


114  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY* 

COUNTRYMAN. 

She  is ; 
Because  we  serve,  not  because  she  commands. 

PHAON. 

Has  she  then  spun  her  nets  about  you  all  ? 
But  I  will  see  how  far  the  charm  can  reach. 
To  Sappho ! 

{Advancing  towards  the  house?) 

COUNTRYMAN. 

Back! 

PHAON. 

Ye  threaten  mp  in  vain ; 
For  I  will  see  her.  —  Sappho,  show  thyself ; 
Where  art  thou  ?  dost  thou  tremble  at  my  presence  ? 
There  at  the  altar  is  her  band  of  slaves ;  % 
I  have  her ;  —  she  shall  not  escape  ;  stand  forth  ! 
{Forces  his  way  through  the  crowd,  the  circle  of  maidens 

opens  and  discloses  sappho  lying  prostrate  on  the  steps 

of  the  altar?) 

COUNTRYMAN. 

How  darest  thou,  rash  boy  ? 

PHAON. 

What  dost  thou  here 
Before  the  gods  ?  they  hear  not  evil  prayers. 
Up! 

(He  lays  his  hand  upon  her;  at  his  touch,  sappho  starts 
up,  and  without  looking  at  him  hurries  to  the  front  of 
the  stage.) 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  11$ 

phaon  (following  her). 
Wouldst  thou  flee  ?  I  call  thee  to  account, 
And  thou  must  answer.    Tremble :  thou  hast  cause. 
Knowest  thou  what  thou  hast  done  ?    What  right  hast 

thou 
To  hold  me  in  unlawful  durance,  me, 
A  freeman  with  no  master  but  myself  ? 
Behold  these  men  in  unaccustomed  arms  : 
Were  they  sent  out  by  thee  ?  speak !  didst  thou  send 

them?  — 
Still  silent  ?  are  the  poet's  sweet  lips  dumb  ? 

SAPPHO. 

This  is  too  much. 

*  PHAON. 

The  blood  mounts  to  her  cheek, 
Suffusing  it  with  the  deep  glow  of  anger : 
Throw  off  thy  mask  ;  show  thyself  as  thou  art, 
And  rage  and  slay,  thou  cruel,  treacherous  Circe. 

SAPPHO. 

This  is  too  much.  —  Up,  arm  thyself,  my  heart. 

PHAON. 

Answer  me  :  was  it  thou  sent  forth  these  men  ? 

SAPPHO  (JO  RHAMNES). 

Go  and  bring  back  to  me  my  slave,  Melitta ; 
'Twas  she  alone,  none  other,  that  I  sent  for, 


y 


\, 


( 


Il6  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 


PHAON. 

Back,  back !  let  no  one  dare  lay  hands  on  her. 
Demand  a  ransom  ;  though  I  am  not  rich, 
Parents  and  friends  will  gladly  help  me  purchase 
My  happiness  from  Sappho's  avarice. 

sappho  (still  looking  away). 

I  seek  not  gold,  but  only  what  is  mine ; 
She  stays. 

PHAON. 

She  shall  not  stay,  no,  by  the. gods! 
That  moment  forfeited  thy  claim  upon  her, 
When  thou  didst  point  the  dagger  at  her  breast : 
Thy  money  bought  her  service,  not  her  life. 
Dost  think  that  I  would  leave  her  in  thy  hands  ? 
Once  more,  demand  her  ransom  and  release  her. 

SAPPHO  (tO  RHAMNES). 

Do  as  I  bid  thee. 

PHAON. 

Stand  back  every  one  I 
He  meets  his  death  who  lays  a  finger  on  her. ■— 
Art  thou  so  void  of  all  humanity 
Thou  hast  no  feeling  left  for  others'  woe  ? 
Cast  down  thy  golden  lyre,  thou  murderous  serpent  j 
For  nevermore  thy  lips  shall  utter  song : 
Thy  gift  of  poesy  is  forfeited. 


SAPPHO i    A   TRAGEDY.  117 

Oh,  desecrate  no  more  the  name  of  art, 
Which  should  be  as  the  flower  among  life's  leaves, 
Born  of  our  purest  powers,  and  lift  its  head 
Fragrant  with  balsam  through  the  liquid  blue 
Unto  the  stars  whose  image  it  should  bear. 
But  thou  hast  used  it  like  the  poisonous  hemlock, 
To  work  a  cruel  death  upon  thy  foes. 
Far  otherwise  in  earlier,  fairer  days 
Had  I,  poor  simple  fool,  imagined  Sappho. 
Sweet  as  her  song  seemed  her  transfigured  spirit, 
And  spotless  as  her  lays  I  deemed  her  heart 
The  harmonies  that  issued  from  her  lips 
I  fancied  rose  and  fell  within  her  bosom, 
And  her  whole  being  I  deemed  was  melody. 
The  wand  of  what  magician  has  transformed  thee  ? 
Turn  not  thine  eyes  away  from  me  in  fear, 
But  look  upon  me  :  let  me  look  on  thee, 
That  I  may  know  if  it  be  really  thou ; 
If  these  can  be  the  lips  my  lips  have  kissed, 
And  those  the  eyes  that  smiled  to  mine  so  sweetly; 
If  thou  be  really  Sappho's  self. 

(He  seizes  her  arm,  and  turns  her  towards  him.     She  looks 
up  ;  her  eyes  meet  his.) 

Sappho  (shrinking  with  pain). 
Ah  me ! 

PHAON. 

Yes,  thou  art  Sappho  still :  that  was  her  voice. 
What  I  have  said  I  scatter  to  the  winds, 


118  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

That  it  may  not  take  root  in  any  heart. 

Now  all  is  clear  again  before  my  eyes, 

And  as  the  sun  after  the  thunder-storm, 

So  through  the  spent  clouds  of  the  present  shines 

The  brightness  of  the  past.     I  bid  thee  hail, 

Spirit  of  fairer  clays :  thou  art  again 

What  thou  wast  to  me  in  my  distant  home 

Ere  I  had  seen  thy  face,  face  of  a  god, 

Which  I  mistakenly  have  held  for  human. 

Show  thyself  now  a  goddess :  Sappho,  bless  us ! 

SAPPHO. 

Deceiver  I 

PHAON. 

I  am  no  deceiver,  Sappho. 
'Twas  no  deception  when  I  swore  I  loved  thee ; 
-For  I  did  love  thee  as  men  love  the  gods, 
As  we  love  all  that  *s  beautiful  and  good. 
'Mongst  higher  beings,  Sappho,  seek  thy  mate : 
Not  with  impunity  can  one  forsake 
The  table  of  the  gods  to  dwell  with  mortals. 
The  hand  that  once  has  held  the  golden  lyre 
Is  consecrated,  and  should  touch  nought  meaner, 

sappho  {with  averted  face,  speaking  to  herself). 

Down  with  the  golden  lyre  to  ocean's  depths, 
Rather  than  purchase  it  at  such  a  price. 


SAPPHO;    A  TRAGEDY.  119 


PHAON. 

My  senses  reeled  in  wild  bewilderment : 

I  was  in  conflict  with  the  world  and  self ; 

In  vain  I  tried  to  rouse  in  me  the  feelings 

Which  slumbered,  as  I  thought,  but  which  were  not 

A  shape  mysterious  thou  didst  stand  before  me, 

All  powerful  to  attract  and  to  repel ; 

Too  low  my  anger  deemed  thee  for  my  love  : 

Now  I  am  conscious  that  thou  art  too  high, 

And  only  like  with  like  can  gladly  mate. 

Then  I  beheld  Melitta,  and  to  heaven 

The  inward  fountains  of  my  being  leapt, 

Whose  every  outlet  had  been  clogged  till  then. 

Oh,  come  to  her,  Melitta !  come  to  her : 

Banish  all  fear,  for  she  is  mild  and  good ; 

Unveil  the  ghining  crystal  of  thine  eyes, 

That  she  may  gaze  into  thy  pious  breast, 

And  own  with  joy  that  thou  art  without  blot 

melitta  (timidly  approaching). 
My  mistress  I 

sappho  (holding  her  at  a  distance). 
Off  from  me  1 

MELITTA, 

Ah,  she  is  angry. 

PHAON. 

Can  she  then  be  the  thing  I  feared  to  think  ? 


120  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

Come  back,  Melitta,  hither  to  my  side : 
Thou  shalt  not  pray  to  her ;  not  in  my  presence 
Shall  Sappho's  pride  insult  thee.     Pray  not  to  her : 
She  does  not  know  thy  worth,  nor  yet  her  own ; 
Or  on  her  knees  she  would  pay  silent  homage, 
The  guilty  to  the  innocent :  come  back. 

MELITTA. 

Nay,  let  me  kneel  as  it  becomes  a  child 

To  kneel  before  its  mother  and  accept 

Her  chastisement,  if  she  deem  right  to  chasten : 

I  will  obey  nor  murmur  at  her  sentence. 

PHAON. 

Thou  art  no  longer  thine  alone,  but  mine, 
And  humblest  me  by  this  submission  :  come, 
For  we  shall  yet  find  means  to  wring  from  her 
What  harshly  she  refuses  to  our  prayers. 

MELITTA. 

And  were  it  so,  I  joy  but  in  her  gifts  : 
If  wrung  from  her,  the  greatest  bliss  were  torment 
Here  will  I  kneel  until  a  kindly  glance, 
A  gentle  word,  assure  me  of  forgiveness. 
How  often  have  I  lain  thus  at  her  feet ! 
And  never  did  I  rise  uncomforted. 
She  will  not  now  dismiss  me  in  my  tears: 
Look  down  upon  thy  child,  beloved  lady. 
(sappho  stands,  her  face  hidden  on  eucharis*  shoulder!) 


SAPPHO:    A  TRAGEDY.  121 

•   PHAON. 

Canst  hear  her  prayers,  and  still  be  cold  and  dumb  ? 

MELITTA. 

She  is  not  cold,  although  her  lips  be  silent : 

I  feel  her  heart  communing  with  my  heart. 

Be  judge,  O  Sappho,  'twixt  this  man  and  me : 

Bid  me  to  follow  him  and  I  will  follow ; 

Bid  me  forsake  him,  —  O  ye  Gods,  —  e'en  that ! 

Thou  tremblest :  —  Sappho,  dost  thou  hear  me  not  ? 


phaon  (kneeling  beside  melitta  and  putting  his 

about  her). 
Love  unto  men  and  reverence  to  the  gods. 
Give  what  belongs  to  us,  and  take  thine  own. 
Consider  who  thou  art,  and  what  thou  dost. 
(sappho  starts  up  at  these  last  words,  casts  one  look  on  the 

kneeling  figures  before  her,  then  turns  away,  and  hurries 

from  the  stage). 

MELITTA. 

Alas,  she  leaves  me ;  she  casts  off  her  child ! 

(eucharis  and  maidens  follow  sappho.) 


122  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

SCENE  FOURTH. 
The  same.    Without  Sappho  and  Eucharis. 

PHAON. 

Arise,  my  child  :  pray  not  to  mortal  man ; 
The  gods  remain  to  us  and  our  own  selves. 

MELITTA. 

I  cannot  live  if  Sappho  shall  condemn  me : 
Her  eyes  have  always  been  the  perfect  mirror 
Wherein  I  tested  every  deed  and  feeling ; 
They  show  me  now  my  o\vn  deformity. 
How  she  must  suffer,  wounded  to  the  heart  I 

PHAON. 

Thou  lendest  her  thy  feeling :  other  waves 
Are  surging  in  that  haughty  woman's  breast. 

MELITTA. 

Proud  though  she  seems,  I  found  her  ever  kind. 
If  often  stern,  there  lay  concealed  for  me 
'Neath  the  rough  shell  a  sweet  and  tender  fruit 
Alas,  alas,  that  I  could  e'er  forget  it  1 

RHAMNES. 

Alas,  indeed,  thou  ever  couldst  forget  it  I 


.   SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  123 

PHAON. 

Why  do  ye  tremble,  since  she  is  so  kind  ? 

RHAMNES. 

She  went  in  wrath,  and  boundless  as  her  love 
Her  anger  is  :  alas  for  both  of  you ! 

PHAON. 

What  can  we  have  to  fear  ? 

RHAMNES. 

Death  for  the  slave. 


By  what  authority? 


I  will  defend  her. 


PHAON. 
RHAMNES. 

Our  country's  laws. 

PHAON. 
RHAMNES. 

Who  defendeth  thee  ? 

PHAON. 

If  earth  should  open  wide  before  my  feet, 
And  ocean's  thunders  threaten  to  devour ; 
Could  she  unite  the  elements  of  nature 
In  dreadful  league  against  me,  —  I  would  hold 


124  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

This  maiden  fast  and  laugh  at  Sappho's  wrath, 
Scorning  her  threats  and  her. 

RHAMNES. 

Scorn  Sappho,  thou  ? 
And  who  art  thou,  that  thou  shouldst  throw  thy  word 
Into  the  scale  wherein  humanity 
Measures  its  greatest  ?    Thou,  that  thou  shouldst  dare 
Pass  judgment  where  the  voice  of  Greece  has  spoken ! 
Dim-sighted,  guilty  fool,  hold'st  thou  her  worthless, 
Because  thou  hast  no  measure  for  her  worth  ? 
Or  the  gem  dull,  because  thine  eye  is  blind  ? 
That  thee  she  loved  and  raised  thee  to  herself 
Out  of  thy  native  dust,  a  thankless  serpent, 
Whose  poisonous  fang  is  gnawing  at  her  heart ; 
That  she  her  riches  lavished  upon  thee, 
Who  had  no  soul  for  such  a  priceless  treasure,  — 
That  is  the  only  spot  upon  her  life : 
Envy  itself  can  charge  her  with  no  other. 
Speak  not !  the  very  boldness  is  not  thine 
Which  prompts  thee  to  set  up  thyself  against  her  ; 
For  how  hadst  thou  out  of  thy  nothingness, 
The  most  forgotten  of  forgotten  beings, 
Dared  lift  thy  voice  against  the  boast  of  Hellas  ? 
That  she  regarded  thee  gave  thee  the  pride 
With  which  thou  now  think'st  to  look  down  on  her. 

PHAON. 

The  glory  of  her  song  I  would  not  question. 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  125 

RHAMNES. 

Wouldst  not  indeed !  thou  couldst  not  if  thou  wouldst 

In  characters  of  diamond  she  has  writ 

Her  name  upon  the  stars,  and  it  will  last 

Long  as  the  stars  shall  burn.     In  distant  times, 

'Mong  other  nations,  when  our  mortal  bodies 

Shall  long  ago  have  crumbled  into  dust, 

And  e'en  our  very  graves  have  ceased  to  be, 

Shall  Sappho's  lays  be  sung,  her  name  still  live  — 

And  thine.     Be  proud  of  the  immortality 

Which  thou  hast  purchased  by  thy  crime  against  hen 

In  foreign  lands  and  races  still  to  come, 

When  centuries  which  have  not  yet  been  born 

Are  lying  buried  in  the  grave  of  time, 

The  tale  shall  still  be  told  by  every  mouth  :  — 

The  poetess  who  sang  this  song  was  Sappho, 

And  Phaon  was  the  name  of  him  who  slew  her. 

MELITTA. 

O  Phaon ! 

PHAON. 

Quiet,  quiet ! 

RHAMNES. 

Poor  consoler, 
Enjoining  quiet  with  unquiet  voice. 
Let  her  acknowledge  her  offence  and  tremble : 
At  least  that  vengeance  Sappho  shall  enjoy. 


126  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

The  glory  of  her  song  thou  wouldst  not  question : 

What  other  glory  wouldst  thou  question  then  ? 

He  scarce  will  dare  throw  doubt  upon  her  heart 

Who  solely  to  her  heart  owes  all  he  is. 

Look  round  about  thee :  there  is  no  one  here 

Who  has  not  found  her  kind  ;  who  on  himself 

In  house  and  field,  in  family  and  home, 

Bears  not  abundant  traces  of  her  care  ; 

Not  one  whose  pulses  do  not  quicker  beat 

To  call  himself  the  countryman  of  Sappho, 

A  citizen  with  her  ofJMytilene. 

Ask  yonder  trembling  maiden  at  thy  side, 

Companion  of  thy  deed  more  than  thy  guilt, 

How  good  a  mistress  she  has  found  in  Sappho. 

What  had  the  slave  herself  to  offer  thee  ? 

If  aught  in  her  could  please,  'twas  Sappho's  spirit, 

Gentle  and  tender  as  a  mother's  love, 

That  spoke  to  thee  from  out  her  handiwork. 

Ay,  press  thy  brow,  but  thou  wilt  strive  in  vain 

To  wipe  from  it  the  memory  of  this  day. 

What  future  is  before  thee  ?  wilt  thou  flee  ? 

On  all  this  earth  thou  wilt  not  find  a  refuge. 

In  every  pious  breast  will  rise  a  foe 

Against  the  foe  of  goodness  and  of  beauty. 

Fame  shall  precede  thee,  crying  in  men's  ears,  — 

Lo,  Sappho's  murderer !  lo,  the  gods'  contemner ! 

Thou,  homeless,  through  the  land  wilt  roam  with  her, 

Whom  for  protection  thou  hast  given  ruin. 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY*  127 

No  Greek  will  shelter  thee  beneath  his  roof, 
No  god  allow  thee  entrance  to  his  temple ; 
But,  conscience-stricken,  thou  wilt  fly  the  altar 
When  the  priest  bids  each  evil  thing  depart ! 
And  when  thou  fliest,  the  dread  Eumenides, 
The  vengeance-bringers  from  the  infernal  world, 
Will  shake  their  snaky  locks  about  thee,  crying 
The  name  of  Sappho  ever  in  thine  ears 
Until  the  grave  thyself  hast  dug  engulf  thee. 


Enough,  enough  I 


MELITTA. 
PHAON. 

Man,  thou  wilt  drive  me  mad. 

RHAMNES. 

Thy  madness  was  in  putting  Sappho  from  thee : 
Enjoy  the  harvest  thou  thyself  hast  sown. 

MELITTA, 

To  her  I 

PHAON. 

Ah,  who  will  save  me  from  this  torture  ? 


128  SAPPHO  i    A   TRAGEDY. 

SCENE  FIFTH. 
The  same.    Eucharis. 

» 

EUCHARIS. 

Rhamnes,  art  thou  still  here  ?  come  quickly. 


RHAMNES. 

Whither? 


EUCHARIS. 

To  Sappho, 

RHAMNES. 

What  —  ? 

EUCHARIS. 

I  fear  me  she  is  ill 

RHAMNES. 

The  gods  forbid ! 

EUCHARIS. 

I  followed  her  afar 
Up  to  the  spacious  hall,  where  hid  from  sight 
I  watched  with  eye  intent  her  every  movement 
Leaning  against  a  pillar  there  she  stood. 
And  downward  gazed  into  the  broad  blue  sea, 
That  dashed  its  foam  against  the  rocky  shore. 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  1 29 

Speechless  and  motionless  she  stood  above  me, 
With  eyes  so  fixed  and  cheeks  so  pale  she  seemed 
One  with  the  marble  figures  round  about  her. 
But  sometimes  she  would  stir,  and  pulling  flowers 
Or  gold  or  ornaments,  whate'er  was  near, 
Would  fling  them  down  into  the  murmuring  sea, 
Following  them  in  their  fall  with  longing  eyes. 
I  was  approaching,  when  a  sudden  clang 
Made  the  hall  ring,  and  shivered  through  her  frame. 
It  was  her  harp,  that  hanging  on  the  wall 
Let  the  sea-air  play  loud  among  its  strings. 
She  looked  above,  her  breath  came  quick,  she  shrank 
As  at  the  touch  of  some  unearthly  power ; 
While  gazing  thus  intent  upon  the  lyre, 
The  stony  features  stirred  with  sudden  life. 
A  smile  played  round  her  mouth,  the  firm-pressed  lips 
Were  parted,  and  I  heard  mysterious  words 
That  seemed  not  Sappho's,  though  from  Sappho's  mouth. 
"  Callest  thou  me  to  warn  me,  friend,"  she  said ; 
"  Reminding  me  of  days  that  are  gone  by  ? 
I  understand  thee  and  return  thee  thanks." 
How  Sappho  reached  the  wall  I  cannot  tell, 
Nor  how  the  lyre  that  hung  above  her  head, 
For  all  things  seemed  to  swim  before  my  eyes ; 
But  when  I  looked  again,  she  held  the  harp, 
And  pressed  it  closely  to  her  heaving  breast, 
Whence  I  could  hear  the  quick  breath  come  and  go. 
From  the  domestic  altar  then  she  took 
6*  1 


130  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

The  wreath,  the  Olympic  crown  of  victory, 
Bound  it  about  her  head,  and  threw  the  mantle 
Of  glowing  crimson  round  about  her  shoulders. 
Who  for  the  first  time  had  beheld  her  then  — 
Her  hand  holding  the  lyre,  her  gaze  upraised, 
Her  figure  lifted  up  and  glorified, 
The  brightness  of  transfiguration  on  her — • 
Had  hailed  her  as  a  being  not  of  earth, 
And  bowed  his  trembling  knee  to  her  in  prayer. 
But  mute  and  motionless  as  she  had  grown, 
I  felt  a  dread  and  awe  take  hold  upon  me ; 
Those  features  dead  in  life  filled  me  with  horror, 
And  I  ran  hither  — 

RHAMNES. 

Left  her  I  — let  us  haste  ;  — 
But  see  I  —  she  comes. 


SCENE  SIXTH. 

Sappho,  richly  dressed  as  in  the  first  act,  the  crimson  mantle 
about  her  shoulders,  crowned  with  the  laurel  and  holding  the  lyre 
in  her  hand,  appears  upon  the  steps  of  the  colonnade,  surrounded 
by  her  maidens,  and  advances  slowly  and  gravely.    Long  pause. 

MELITTA. 

O  Sappho,  O  my  mistress  I 

sappho  (calm  and  grave). 
What  will'st  thou  ? 


SAPPHO:   A   TRAGEDY.  131 

MELITTA. 

From  my  eyes  the  veil  is  lifted : 
Oh,  let  me  be  thy  slave  again  1  take  back 
What  is  thine  own,  and  keep  it  and  forgive. 

sappho  (as  before). 

Deemest  thou  Sappho  in  such  evil  case 
That  she  has  need  of  any  gift  from  thee  ? 
Whatever  is  my  own  I  have  already. 

PHAON. 

Oh,  hear  me,  Sappho !  hear  me  I 

SAPPHO. 

Touch  me  not  I 
I  'm  consecrated  to  the  gods. 

PHAON. 

O  Sappho, 
If  ever  thou  hast  looked  on  me  with  kindness  — 

SAPPHO. 

Thou  speakest  of  the  things  that  are  gone  by. 
I  sought  for  thee,  and  I  have  found  myself. 
Thou  couldst  not  comprehend  my  heart ;  farewell : 
Upon  a  surer  stay  my  hopes  must  rest 

PHAON. 

Is  thy  love  turned  to  hatred  ? 


132  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 

SAPPHO. 

Hatred  —  love:  — 
Is  there  no  third  ?    Thou  hast  been  dear  to  me : 
Thou  art  so  still,  and  wilt  be  ever  dear, 
Dear  as  a  fellow-traveller  brought  by  chance 
Into  our  boat  to  cross  a  narrow  sea ; 
When  reached  the  goal,  each  goes  his  separate  way, 
And  only  sometimes  from  the  far,  strange  distance, 
In  memory  sees  again  the  loved  companion. 
(Her  voice  fails  her.) 

phaon  (with  emotion). 
O  Sappho ! 

SAPPHO. 

Silence !  let  us  part  in  peace. 
{To  those  about  her.) 
Ye  who  have  witnessed  Sappho's  weakness,  pardon  j 
For  that  weak  hour  I  will  make  full  atonement : 
The  bow  till  it  is  bent  shows  not  its  strength. 
\l  (Pointing  to  the  altar  in  the  background.) 

Kindle  the  flame  of  Aphrodite  yonder, 
That  it  may  mingle  with  the  red  of  dawn ; 
(//  is  done?) 
^s  And  now  withdraw,  and  let  me  here  alone, 
Alone  with  these  my  friends  take  counsel. 

RHAMNES. 

Come: 

She  wills  it  so  ;  let  us  obey  ;  come  all  1 

(Attendants  draw  back?) 


SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY.  133 

sappho  (advancing). 

Ye  great  and  holy  Gods, 
With  richest  blessings  ye  have  graced  my  life : 
Into  my  hand  ye  gave  the  bow  of  song, 
And  gave  me  with  it  poesy's  full  quiver ; 
A  heart  to  feel  ye  gave,  a  mind  to  think, 
And  power  to  give  expression  to  my  thought 
With  richest  blessings  ye  have  graced  my  life. 
I  thank  ye. 

Ye  crowned  with  victory  my  feeble  head, 

And  sowed  abroad,  into  far  distant  lands, 

The  singer's  fame,  seed  for  eternity. 

My  golden  lays  shall  sound  from  foreign  tongues, 

And  Sappho's  name  shall  die  but  with  the  earth. 

I  thank  ye. 

Ye  have  permitted  to  the  poetess 

To  taste  of  this  life's  fragrance-wreathfed  cup,  — 

To  taste  but  not  to  drink. 

And  see,  obedient  to  your  high  behest, 

I  set  the  fragrance  -wreathfed  goblet  down 

And  drink  it  not. 

I  have  completed  what  ye  gave  to  do, 

Therefore  refuse  me  not  the  last  reward. 

They  who  are  yours  know  not  infirmity,  ' 

The  serpent  of  disease  steals  not  upon  them  \ 


134  SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY. 

But  in  the  bloom  of  life,  in  their  full  powers, 
Ye  snatch  them  up  to  your  divine  abode  : 
Vouchsafe  to  me  a  like  high  destiny. 

Oh,  suffer  not  your  priestess  to  become 
An  object  of  derision  to  your  foes, 
A  jest  unto  the  fool  who  deems  him  wise  I 
Ye  broke  the  blossom  :  oh,  break  now  the  stem ; 
As  my  beginning  was,  so  be  my  end ; 
Spare  me  the  bloody  torture  of  this  strife ; 
I  feel  myself  too  weak  to  struggle  longer ; 
The  battle  end  and  give  me  victory !  — 
(  With  enthusiasm.) 

The  flame  burns  brightly,  and  the  sun  ascends. 
I  feel  that  I  am  heard  :  ye  Gods,  be  thanked !  — 
Thou  Phaon,  and  Melitta  thou,  draw  near : 

(Kissing  phaon 's  brow.) 
One  kisses  thee  who  is  not  of  this  world. 
(Embracing  melitta.) 

Thy  mother  who  is  dead  sends  thee  this  kiss. 
And  now  away ;  at  Aphrodite's  altar 
Let  love  accomplish  its  dark  destiny. 
(Hastens  to  the  a/tar.) 

RHAMNES. 

What  plans  she  ?  all  her  being  is  transfigured, 
The  light  of  the  immortal  gods  is  on  her. 


SAPPHO:    A   TRAGEDY.  1 35 

\J  sappho  (standing  on  a  high  place  above  the  sea,  and  extend* 
ing  her  arms  towards  the  two). 

Love  unto  man  and  reverence  to  the  gods : 
Enjoy  your  happiness,  remembering  Sappho. 
Thus  I  acquit  myself  of  life's  last  debt : 
Bless  them,  ye  Gods,  and  take  me  to  yourselves.    *^ 
(She  springs  from  the  rock  into  the  sea.)     /r 

PHAON. 

Hold,  Sappho,  hold  1 

MELITTA. 

Alas,  she  falls,  she  dies  I 

phaon  (occupied  with  melitta). 

Quick,  to  her  rescue :  hasten  to  the  shore  1 
(Some  hurry  out.) 

rhamnes  (standing  upon  the  height). 

Ye  Gods,  protect  her !  dreadful  are  the  rocks  : 
She  will  be  dashed  in  pieces,  if  she  touch  them. 
Oh,  bear  her  safely  over !  —  Woe,  'tis  done. 

phaon. 
Why  stand  there  crying  ?  to  the  boats ;  haste,  baste  I 

rhamnes  (descending). 
Hold,  'tis  too  late :  begrudge  her  not  the  grave 
Which  she,  despising  this  false  earth,  has  chosen 
Within  the  sacred  bosom  of  the  ocean. 


136  SAPPHO:    A    TRAGEDY. 


PHAON. 

Dead? 

RHAMNES. 

Dead. 

PHAON. 

Oh,  woe  is  me !  impossible ! 

RHAMNES. 

Hushed  is  the  lyre,  and  faded  is  the  laurel : 
Her  home  was  not  with  us  upon  the  earth ; 
She  has  returned  to  those  from  whom  she  came. 

The  curtain  falls. 


THE  END. 


Cambridge :   Press  of  John  Wilson  &  Son. 


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